Another World
by Pookieh
Summary: "It's not about how you look or what world you're from, love can make impossible things possible." When Peeta Mellark finds himself stranded on an unfamiliar planet, he's faced with a moral dilemma: save his people or risk it all for the strange yet beautiful woman whose stolen his heart. Fantasy/sci-fi Everlark AU inspired by tannany's original art "It's Love" on DeviantArt.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated 'M' for language and future sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

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The thing about back-up plans? No one ever expects to use them. Never mind a _back-up_ back-up plan. Not when all possible outcomes have been scrutinized a hundred times over by every engineer, physicist, and medic, leaving no possible room for error. Theoretically, it should have been a perfect entry. But that's just the thing, it's all theoretical. When your people have lived in the same hunk of metal traveling through space for centuries, there's no guarantee of certainty beyond your ships walls.

With a deep breath, I take a moment to collect myself. Besides a wicked case of whiplash and a few aching muscles, the rest of me seems to be intact. The fuselage of the POD, however—well, not so much. There's a huge crack running down the center of the control screen, and a number of flashing lights blink an angry red, but right now they're the least of my worries. The smell of unburned fuel stings my nostrils, causing my survival instincts to finally kick in. So, with shaky hands, I fumble with the straps tethering my body to this ticking time bomb. With a satisfying rip, I tear myself free from the seat and locate my pack, dumping everything not bolted down to the POD into it. I consider sending a quick message back up to the ship, but bright pink fuel now covers the keypad of the control panel.

Nope. Not worth it.

Thankfully, the POD door slides open without any difficulty and my official greeting to this new world comes in the form of a brutally cold slap to the face. It's the best thing I've ever felt. The heaviness, I could do without. The medic assured me I'd adjust quickly to the change in gravity and as long as I didn't succumb to any sudden dizzy spells, I'd be fine. Shouldering my pack, I focus on lifting my heavy feet, but the toe of my boot catches the doorframe and I tumble face first into the snow-covered ground below.

 _Welcome to DIST-12_.

With a face full of snow, I reach over and adjust the dial on my forearm to increase the temperature of my suit, and before I know it, I'm enveloped in an invisible bubble of warmth. Not a clue on how the thing actually works (something about thermoelectric converters and temperature differences), but what I do know is that I don't want to freeze my ass off before locating any sort of civilization. I need to keep moving.

My body still feels like a steel weight, but I'm coasting on my adrenaline high, so with a grunt, I manage to crawl my way back up to my feet. Everywhere I look I'm faced with a wall of snow. No wonder my entry failed; without something for the POD to aim for in this endless sea of white, I'm surprised I didn't ricochet off some mountain face. What a way to go that would have been.

According to my communicuff, I should have landed about fifty clicks south of wherever the hell I am. The orange comm light flickers rapidly, then to my horror, goes out completely a second later. With a whispered curse, I jam the transmission button down and bring my forearm closer to my face. "This is Cadet Mellark reporting in, do you copy?" I hold my breath as I wait for confirmation, but all I'm met with is silence. I try again. "I repeat, this is Cadet Mellark reporting in. Entry to DIST-12 was successful. POD suffered severe damage during entry. Do you copy?" There's nothing, not even the background crackle of static. Maybe there's something interfering with the signal.

Holding a hand up to shield my eyes, I make out an outcropping of something not too far off in the distance—trees or rocks perhaps? But hopefully, shelter. It's a bit of a trek, but what other choice do I have? I'll give the comm another try once I'm out of this storm, not ready to rule out the possibility that I've lost all communication with my ship.

One slow and grueling hour later, I find myself at the edge of a heavily wooded area. Squinting, I can't make anything out beyond the tree trunks, so my senses are on high alert. There's no telling what awaits me in there, but considering my only other option is to continue trudging through a snowstorm...creepy woods it is then.

Once amongst the cover of the thick foliage, I'm surprised at how quickly my eyes adjust. It's noticeably warmer too now that I'm out of the wind, almost as if I've just walked through an invisible wall, leaving the cold and snow behind me. After lowering the setting on my suit, I do a quick scan of my surroundings as I catch my breath. The cramp on my side that I've been trying to ignore for the past half hour is only getting worse, but I have to ignore the pain, my instincts telling me I need to keep moving.

The deeper I trudge through the forest, the less dense the trees become, but I still have a hell of a time avoiding their long, spindly branches that threaten to scratch at my face, almost taking out my left eye at one point. The ground is different here too, slightly spongy beneath my feet and so unlike the hard and unforgiving metal floors I've lived with my whole life. Being able to see where I'm going though has boosted my mood considerably, and as some of my initial unease subsides, it suddenly hits me…I'm surrounded by _trees_. Actual living trees, and beneath my feet is dirt.

Stopping in my tracks, I drop to my knees, digging my fingers into the ground and scooping a handful into my palms. It's soft, a little grainy, and malleable. Bringing it up to my nose, I inhale deeply and my nostrils twitch. It's unlike anything I've smelt before, hard to put into words really, but "fresh" and "clean" and oddly enough "sweet" all come to mind. It's nothing like the sterile growth medium we use on the ship.

A gust of wind rustles through the leaves, bringing me back to reality, and I scramble back to my feet. Glancing up at the canopy overhead, there's still some daylight filtering through. But for how long? I won't be safe here when darkness falls. I need a spot to regroup and reassess.

That spot comes half an hour later, in the form of a small clearing. After a quick examination for any immediate hazards, I finally take a moment to prop my back up against a rock and catch my breath. As expected, it's grown considerably darker—but surprisingly warmer—over the past few minutes, so I decide this is as good a place as any to bunker down for the night.

Glancing down at my forearm, all my vitals appear stable and I readjust the temperature on my suit again. I'm reminded of the lack of a signal coming from the comm feed, but I try to make contact with the ship again regardless, hoping for better luck this time without the snowstorm to interfere. Unfortunately for me, luck has never been on my side. Thankfully, the red homing beacon is still blinking, so even with communications cut off, they must know I survived the landing. With a heavy exhale, I start the countdown on my communicuff.

Three weeks. I just need to survive three weeks and then they'll send help.

Rummaging through my pack, I pull out my info pad and swipe the screen to life, thrilled to see it survived the trip. Although I could probably recite all that's known about this planet in my sleep (there's just that little of it), I can't help but scan the information again.

 _DIST-12 – the twelfth of thirteen planets with the potential to sustain human life, located on the outer edge of the habitable zone orbiting the G2V star Vesta._

 _Atmosphere: sustainable_

 _Energy Source: Vesta_

 _Moon(s): Vertumnus_

 _Inhabitants: Unknown; assume primitive._

 _Topography: Varied including coastal plains, temperate forests, tundra, and low mountain ranges._

 _Mission: Assess planet for suitable colonization. If conditions prove to be conducive, initiate surveillance protocol. If at all possible, do not engage with local inhabitants._

And that's it. All I have to go on.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I can't help but laugh. How the hell did I get myself into this? Oh wait, I didn't. With the mounting debts my mother garnered over the past few years, we were given two options: give up our living quarters or double the number of times her children were entered into the draft. Being the youngest and only one still eligible, the odds were certainly not in my favor. And considering it'd have to be a cold day in hell before my mother downgraded to the lower decks, unofficially known as The Seam, guess which option she took?

Being selected as tribute, as we're so graciously labeled, promises the chance of a lifetime. Or that used to be the pitch back during the early days. _Chance of a lifetime,_ my ass. Each time our fleet happened upon a galaxy with the potential to sustain life, so began the preparations for the draft. In the beginning, there was no need for the lottery-style system we have now. You didn't have to look hard to find an eager cadet who craved the fame and glory of having first contact with our potential new home planet. But once people started realizing the one-hundred-percent failure rate of these missions, being selected soon became a death wish, and the pool of volunteers declined dramatically.

This time around, though, we seemed to hit the jackpot, stumbling upon a galaxy with not only one or two but _thirteen_ habitable planets. The excitement on my ship alone was overwhelming, outweighing the undercurrent of dread when everyone eventually realized what that meant. Thirteen tributes for thirteen planets. And seeing how everyone aboard the Capitol was sitting pretty with the knowledge that they were once again immune from the draft, one unlucky ship would have the privilege of selecting two tributes.

You'd think I'd have been more surprised when my name flashed across the screens as the selected tribute for DIST-12. But after being constantly surrounded by people and sharing an eight-by-twelve metal box with my parents and two older brothers for twenty years, my prospects for the future weren't exactly looking too rosy. Not after the marriage and procreation restriction was initiated on our ship last year. If I was going to die alone anyway, I'd rather it be for a worthwhile cause.

Without anyone to share in my pity party, I go through the rest of my pack to see what survived the trip. I find a pair of night vision goggles, but the left lens is completely shattered and nothing happens when I try to switch it on. Damn, those would have been perfect right now.

The HOLO still looks intact, and I hold my breath as I try to activate it. It's nothing more than a glorified map, but down here, it's a lifeline. Impatiently, I wait as it sends out a burst of signals and slowly produces a three-dimensional digital projection of the surrounding terrain. There's a green dot next to a tall mountain, which must be the POD, and further away is another green dot but it's blinking; that must be me. Five additional blinking blue dots are on the move in different directions. Those would be the exploratory drones that launched just prior to impact. At least my mission won't be a complete waste, and assuming they're all functioning properly, they should be relaying information and video feedback up to the ship by now.

Turning the image, it looks as though I've found myself in some sort of low-lying valley. There might be streams close by, with the way the land dips shallowly in a few spots, but with the thick underbrush and uneven terrain, I'm better off waiting for the light of day before tackling that task.

Speaking of water, I go through the rest of my pack, creating a mental inventory of what I will have to work with to sustain me for the weeks to come. With gentle care, I lay out my meager provisions: A thin, black sleeping bag. A half-gallon self-filtering canteen full of water. A first-aid kit. A four-inch knife. A kinetic lighter. A package of fire bricks. A few weeks' worths of dehydrated rations. And a pack of protein bars. My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl, and with my adrenaline high starting to peter out, I become acutely aware of my stomach trying to eat itself.

As I scarf down half a protein bar, I eye my supplies and the HOLO. If I'm careful, there's enough there to last me a solid month, and if those truly are streams, all the better. If not, at least I know where to find snow to melt, should it come to that. Where there's water, there's life, so something other than protein bars and dehydrated rations isn't out of the question.

Washing my cardboard tasting dinner down with some water, I debate lighting a fire. I have no idea what's out in those woods; a fire could either send them running or draw them in like a beacon. Every part of my body aches, and if I let my eyes shut for just a second, I know I'll be out like a light. Better to rest for a few hours now while I can, so digging out the lighter and half a fire brick, I allow myself the luxury of a small fire.

After powering down the HOLO and repacking everything except the sleeping bag, I lean back against the rock and stretch out my legs. While watching the flickering of the flames, I try to formulate a game plan. My true mission is simple: Survive. If I can manage that much, then all I have to do is wait. Tomorrow I'll search for water, then scout the area for any wildlife and a better place to camp for the night. Once that snowstorm lets up (if ever), I might be able to return to the POD and see what I can salvage from the wreck. A few extra pairs of underclothes would be great, and I know there's a tool bag stashed somewhere that'd come in handy. Who knows, maybe the comm device on the POD is still working and I could find a way to rig up—

 _BOOM_!

My head whips around towards the east. Three smaller blasts echo through the night and I tense. Shit…the POD. Hanging my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a string of curses. Well, there goes the hope of clean underwear. Releasing a humorless laugh, I shake my head, the realization seeping in that I might be in for a worse night than I expected.

If anything—or anyone—out there didn't already know I was here, they certainly do now. So much for the surveillance protocol. I scramble to my feet and stare into the black nothingness, scanning the woods for any sign of life. Nothing moves; just the shadows cast from the fire against the trees. For five long minutes, I struggle to get my racing heart under control, eventually plunking my ass back down against the rock after convincing myself nothing is coming for me. Yet.

For all I know, there's nothing out there. I repeat this to myself, over and over, but that doesn't keep my eyes off the woods. To confirm what I already know to be true, I pull the HOLO back out of my pack and switch it on. The steady glowing green of the POD is gone. There are just my own blinking green light and the drones that are slowly making their way beyond the ten-mile radius of the HOLO's signal.

There's no use draining the battery, so I switch the map off and return it to the pack. Sinking back down to the ground, I draw the sleeping bag over my shoulders. It may offer a false sense of security, but whatever. If that's what it takes to get me through tonight, so be it. After tying the ends of the thin material together across my chest, I rest my head against the rock, slowly allowing my muscles to relax and my eyes to close. The last thing I think as I listen to the crackle of the fire is that it's a good thing I'm a light sleeper…

 _Snap!_ The sound of a breaking branch startles me awake. Shaking my head to clear away the fogginess of sleep, it takes a few seconds to orient myself. The sky is still dark and the fire is still going. I couldn't have been out for more than a few hours. _Snap! Snap!_

Heartbeat racing, I reach for my pack, fumbling in the pocket in search of the knife. Shit. Rule Number One from Survival 101: keep a weapon on you at all times. Or was that Rule Number Four? Find a source of fresh water was Number One, then shelter, then… Regardless, Professor Atala would be rolling her eyes at me right about now. Less than 24 hours on this new world and I've already made a potentially fatal error.

The moment my fingers curl around the knife handle, something comes whistling towards me. Surprised by my own quick reflexes, I duck. _Thunk_! Whatever it is has lodged into the tree trunk less than a foot away from where my head should have been. Scrambling on hands and knees, I loop the pack around one arm and make for cover behind the large rock that moments ago was my pillow.

A tense minute passes in silence. During that time, I study the object lodged in the tree trunk. Iridescent blue feathers stick out the back end of what appears to be a primitive arrow. Primitive maybe, but certainly deadly. After another silent minute spent psyching myself up, I risk a peek over the cusp of the rock.

There's nothing there, but then something large rustles in the underbrush across from the fire. Something—or rather, _someone_ —emerges from the shadows. It's a woman…I think. Petite in stature with a furry cape held together around her shoulders with what looks to be a piece of bone. Her dark hair is tucked into a braid that hangs over one shoulder, and she's got another arrow notched and ready to go, aimed straight at my face. But that's not what causes me to stare. Not what causes me to rise to my feet as though I've been caught under the influence of some magical trance. It's the pair of antlers sticking out the top of her head. _Antlers_? And from this distance, it's hard to tell if they're attached to some sort of headdress, but at the angle she's standing…they can't be real. Can they?

With an arrow still trained between my eyes, the woman takes a step closer and narrows her stare. "Where is your herd?"

Well, I'll be damned. The odds are finally looking in my favor, it seems; she speaks my language. But how? Shaking my head, I realize it doesn't matter. That's one hurdle down, just about a thousand more to go. Now if only she'd lower her weapon.

Pulling her bowstring tighter, she asks again, this time her voice more harsh, "Your herd, where are they?"

After quickly shoving the knife up the inside of my sleeve, I outstretch my hands with palms facing up and slowly step out from behind my shield of rock. "Please don't shoot, it's just me."

With a less obstructed view, I get a better look at this strange woman in the firelight. She's smaller than I originally thought, the bulk of her body hidden beneath that cape of fur. And those antlers, I can't stop staring at them. You hear rumors all the time from retired cadets about other races they've come across, but this is just bizarre. They have to be real. There's no way she's keeping those things atop her head without them being welded on.

She studies me right back, and I can only imagine what she sees. Some gawking idiot with a blanket tied around his neck who's probably got leaves and dirt and whatever else stuck all over him. Not exactly the first impression I pictured, but oh well, my disheveled appearance must work in my favor since she lowers her arrow, deeming me harmless. Although now it's pointing straight at my crotch. I'm not sure which target is better.

Standing as still as possible, I allow her to scrutinize me, but her face is frustratingly blank. I'm pretty certain we both know who has the upper hand here, and she's not scared of me, that much is obvious. It both intrigues and frightens me just a bit.

I wrack my brain to recall the protocol for first contact, which is surprising considering Effie had me reciting the damn thing for a week straight to make sure I didn't botch this up. _If not found to be hostile, engage in preliminary introductions_. Ms. Trinket never really did focus on what we were supposed to do if the local inhabitants _were_ found to be hostile. But I guess that's kind of a rhetorical question. I'd be dead.

Right, introductions. Make eye contact. Smile. Exchange names. Simple enough.

I slowly lower my hands and try to smile, but not too much. For all I know smiling at someone here could be considered an offense punishable by death. Clearing my throat, I focus on keeping my voice calm and neutral. "Hello, my name is—"

A bloodcurdling shriek tears through the silence of the night air, stealing the words right out of my throat. I don't have to live here to know that whatever the hell that was, it can't be good. The expression of terror that crosses the woman's face as her eyes dart towards the trees confirms my assumption.

She looks back to me, and for a moment neither of us speaks. Lifting her arrow once again, the woman motions towards the direction of the sound. "I am not the only hunter in these woods. Your _fire_ ," she hisses, casting me a scathing look. "You might as well have shouted "Come take me!" If you value your life, you will come with me. Now."

Not recalling this situation ever being covered during training, I'm not left with many options. Take a leap of faith and trust this strange woman who could very well be leading me straight to my death, or refuse and wait around for whatever that was to do the job for her. I'd say my choices are looking pretty grim, but my gut tells me to trust the pretty face, even if she is scowling like mad.

"Where?" I ask, but I'm already shouldering my pack beneath my make-shift cape.

"Away from here."

I mentally run through the rest of my supplies and scan the ground to make sure I don't forget anything. I've still got the knife tucked up my sleeve, but I'm better off keeping it there until I find out exactly where "away from here" is. Following her into the trees, I make sure to keep a safe distance so she knows I'm not going to try anything. Something tells me she's an ace with that bow.

We walk for at least an hour, me following the best I can in the dark, though it doesn't take long before I'm lagging behind. Stopping halfway through, we take a quick break so I can readjust my pack and catch my breath. Sure, we're only walking, but I've never had to be mindful of rocks and roots or to dodge branches and vines before. I'm not used to this kind of exertion, but hey, I've got a pretty valid excuse after being cooped up in a spaceship my whole life.

It's amazing how nimble she is, her lithe body allowing her to duck and weave through the trees, despite the antlers atop her head. _Antlers!_ Can't forget about those. No matter how long I study them in the filtered moonlight, I keep coming to the same conclusion: they're real, growing right out of her head like tree trunks.

The sound of running water drags my attention away from the woman in front of me, and just off to the left of where the path bends, the ground slopes down to a stream that's no more than a few feet across. This must be the one I saw on the HOLO. Making a mental note of any discerning landmarks, I try to memorize where we are, in case I ever need to find this place again. A few minutes later, I follow her up a rocky outcrop, where all of a sudden she halts, her hand extending out to stop me. She points upwards to where I spot an opening into the side of the rock face.

She's got to be kidding. "Up there?"

With a quick jerk of her head, she scampers up the rocks with inhuman speed and agility, disappearing into the opening, bow and all. Hiking my pack higher up onto my shoulder, I blow out a steady breath and try to retrace the path she took up the rocks, fumbling my way up to the mouth of the cave.

The woman is waiting for me, and grabbing hold of my arm, she drags me the rest of the way into the cave. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling, huffing and panting as I wait for my eyes to adjust. The floor is covered with a thick layer of needle-like leaves, and with my breathing back under control, I roll onto my front and sit back on my knees, trying to take in my surroundings.

The space is no more than twenty feet across and twenty feet deep, and towards the back of the cave, a spark catches. A few seconds later, the cave fills with the warm glow of a small flame. Rising from her crouch by the fire and without setting down her bow, the woman skirts around me back to the mouth of the cave, where she shifts some sort of blind woven from tree branches to conceal the entrance of the cave.

"Sit," she commands, pointing to a spot by the fire.

Although still a bit weary, I'm not really in any position to say otherwise. So I pick a spot in front of the fire with my back towards my only exit. It may be a fifteen-foot drop to the ground, but at least I have a way out if things turn hostile.

Moving to my side and into my line of sight, she raises her arrow and points it back in my face. "What are you called?"

"Peter," I say, extending my hand. At first, she just stares, examining it for a moment, as though she's expecting something to appear out of thin air.

Looking up from my hand, she raises her eyebrows. "Pee-ta?"

Chuckling, I shrug. Close enough. "And what's your name?" When she doesn't answer, I parrot back her own question. "What are you called?"

Lowering her arrow, she moves to stand in front of me, making an obvious point of putting the fire between us. There's a brief pause as if she's trying to weigh whether I'm worthy of the information, and for some reason, I hold my breath until she speaks. "Katniss."

 _Katniss_. I've never heard that name before, but that's no surprise. My parents weren't very adventurous with our names, and neither are most parents on my ship, choosing to keep with the traditional names of our ancestors. If you ask me though, they're all pretty boring. But _Katniss_ …it's pretty. As is the strange woman standing across from me.

Once out from under that furry cape, I can finally get a good look at her. And damn, she's not what I was expecting. Her long-sleeved dress is belted at the waist and hangs down past her knees, ending in a fringed hem. Laced boots cover the rest of her legs, but even though she's practically covered from head to toe, I can tell she's all toned muscle beneath her clothes. The bare skin of her neck holds my gaze for a moment before I take in the features of her face. Dark, wide-set eyes. A slightly upturned nose. A set of sensual lips that are pursed in a firm thin line.

I take it all back. She's not pretty…she's _beautiful_. Even if she is staring at me like I've just ruined her night. But then again, who's to say I haven't?

Pulling a small blade from her belt, she finally takes a seat and we sit in silence—her studying me like she trying to figure out the best way to flay me with that blade, and me trying to figure out which line of questioning to go down next.

Eventually, Katniss sets her bow down and makes an obvious show of removing the crude but rather large blade strapped to her boot. Huh, I guess I missed that one. From the looks of it, it's nothing more than a piece of stone that's been chipped and flaked to a jagged, nasty point, but I bet my daily bread ration she could skin me alive with it.

After she places the huge knife on the floor, I find myself drawn once again to the top of her head. Fascinated, I watch as the shadows from her antlers dance across the cave wall behind her.

She's first to speak again. "When did you lose your crown?"

"My—my what?" She motions above my head. _Oh shit_ , she thinks I'm one of her kind? Swallowing thickly, I make a quick but stupid decision to try and play along. "I—uh, I don't have…any."

Body stiffening, her hand hovers close over that huge ass knife at her feet. "Are you an _Avox_? A traitor to your herd? What was your crime?"

"What?" I sputter. What the hell is an _Avox_? "No, I haven't committed any crime."

Lifting one brow, she studies me for a moment longer, as if she can somehow see into the depths of my soul. She must find me innocent of whatever it is I'm being accused of because all the suspicion and tension leave her body. As if I wasn't even here, she leans over and produces a bowl full of what look to be nuts. With a rock in one hand, she scoops out a handful and places them on the ground, where she begins to pound on the shells.

Crisis averted, I blow out a steady breath. I watch her for a few minutes as I consider my next move. Does she expect me to stay here for the night? Am I being presumptuous to assume so? I still don't even know where "here" really is, and it's about time I started getting some answers.

"Where are we?"

"My home," she says, not looking up from her task.

"I mean, out there." I hook a thumb over my shoulder and wait for her to clue into what I'm asking.

Placing her rock and bowl aside, she reaches for an arrow and using the tip, draws a crude sketch of two groupings of triangles with a few random squiggles throughout in the dirt on the floor. She points to the base of the triangles on the right, to the side facing what I believe to be a large body of water. "We are here, _Taiga_. I found you here," she says, tapping to the opposite side of the triangles. " _Erimos_."

For a brief moment, I consider bringing out the HOLO, but that'd give me away for sure. Besides, I have no clue how she'll react to the technology. Last thing I want is to make her feel threatened. Chances are she doesn't even know humans exist. Nah, I'm better off holding back for now.

"And those?" I ask, motioning to the other set of triangles with my boot. "More mountains?" She nods. Based on her curt answers, I get a sense she's not going to be very forthcoming with any geographical specifics, so I point to what I assume is a central plateau between the mountain. "And here?"

" _Tundar_."

I nod as if the word actually means something to me. But from what I can remember, the area between two mountain ranges receives little precipitation, a dead zone so to speak. And on this planet, a weird kind of snow desert. If I had to venture an educated guess, her people are most likely situated somewhere on the other side of the mountain.

Huh, perhaps the POD hadn't been as far off its target as I originally thought. Considering the purpose of my mission is to observe, they'd have wanted me to land somewhere discreet. So it makes sense now that the dead side of a mountain was what they'd been aiming for. Shaking my head, I let out a mirthless laugh. Glad I was privy to that bit of information.

I've been quiet for too long and judging by her narrowed stare, she knows I've pieced something together. I might as well come right out and say it. Reaching over, I point to the other side of the mountain. "Is that where your people are?"

Without breaking eye contact, she erases the drawing with her foot and before I can even blink an eye, she's on her knees with the arrow notched and pointed at me again. "You are not from these lands."

As if that wasn't already obvious. Dammit, too much too soon. "No."

"Where are you from?" she demands, then motions to my neck with a dip of her arrow. "Remove your hide."

"My what?" I glance down, then realize she must be referring to my forgotten cloak. Slowly, so as not to startle her, I get to my feet and undo the knot at my throat, letting the sleeping bag drop to the floor.

She lets out a gasp as her eyes widen, then proceeds to blatantly look me up and down not once, but twice, her attention finally focusing on the blinking lights on my communicuff, which until now I've been able to keep hidden.

"You are not of this world?" Lowering her weapon a few inches, she gets to her feet too. "Did you arrive on the star that fell from the sky?"

Well, there's no sugar coating it now I guess. "Yes." My confession has a greater effect than I'd thought. She backs away, mouth gaping open before she shuts it tight and then starts pacing back and forth in front of the fire. Uneasy, I clear my throat. "Maybe I should have been more precise. What you saw fall from the sky was my POD, not a star."

This stops her pacing. "What is a…POD?"

"It stands for Pilotable Observation Drone, or as some like to joke, Probe of Death." I chuckle, remembering how as kids, my brothers and I used to make fun of how old and junky the things looked. Only an idiot would willingly send themselves hurling down to a planet in one. Rye liked to say you'd have better luck surviving the trip in a tin can. Lucky for me, that tin can lasted long enough to get _this_ idiot on the ground in one piece. "Sorry, bad joke. It's a small shuttle. I used it to get here from my ship."

Her face turns blank once again, but she nods as she sits back down. "So you are of the star people."

For now, I decide it's easier to just go along with whatever she thinks I am rather than argue. We can sort out the details later. You know, when she's not waving an arrow in my face every few minutes.

"Until you removed your hide," she continues, "I believed you to be a scout from beyond _Erimos_." I decide to keep quiet, sensing she's not finished yet. "Not many have the courage to venture out this far." Her head tilts as she stares at my face, obviously just as curious of me as I am of her. "Your coloring is different too. I have never seen such pale hair before, or eyes of that color." But then her eyes narrow again, focusing in on something below my head. "What is around your neck?" she demands, still clutching her weapon.

"Huh?" I look down the front of my suit but see nothing, then reach up to scratch at the back of my neck. "Oh, you mean this?" So as not to alarm her, I slowly reach down the front of my shirt, fishing out the chain around my neck. I almost forgot I had it on. "Nothing to be scared of, just my ident tag."

"Your what?"

"Identification tag. It lets others know who I am." She stares at it for a little longer but then nods, and I tuck the chain back down the front of my shirt.

I'm still not exactly sure why they were issued to us. Everything about me including my complete personal medical record is stored on the chip they shot into my arm just before my POD was deployed. I'm assuming the tag is just another one of their back-up plans in the off-chance the chip fails. Whatever the reason, I found it interesting how each one came with a unique inscription on the back, mine apparently from an ancient religious text. _And the truth shall set you free._ Kind of ironic for someone like me, but a nice sentiment I guess, even if it's not much use to me in my current situation.

The tension in the air is still clear, so if I'm going to get anywhere with her, I need to earn her trust. "Can I show you something?" When she slowly tilts her head, I carefully reach for my pack, taking my time to pull back the zipper and fish out a protein bar. The metallic wrapping must catch her eye and she leans in a bit closer to look around the fire. "This is food," I start as I tear into the wrapper. Taking a small bite to prove it's safe, I break some off and offer it to her.

Her stomach must overrule her fears, since she crawls over on all fours towards me, then carefully reaches out and takes the piece from my hand. She smells it, her nose scrunching up in a way that makes me chuckle, then tests it with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes meet mine when she finally takes a tentative bite.

As she chews slowly, I take the opportunity to study her face again. Besides the antlers, the only thing marking her face different than a human face is the slight point at the tops of her ears. And maybe her eyes are a little on the larger side, and the color a metallic grey I've never seen before.

I'm captivated by the way her throat moves as she swallows, but the way her body shudders and her face scrunches up afterward makes me bark out a laugh. "Sorry about that. It's not the best-tasting thing in the world, but it does the job."

With a shake of her head, she retreats back to her side of the fire and reaches for something under a woven mat. I tense for just a second, but then catch sight of two pieces of coarse, flat stone. Sitting up on her knees, she positions the larger one in front of her and places a handful of the nuts she's just shucked onto it. Taking hold of the smaller stone, she begins pounding then sliding and rolling the nuts over and over. Within a few minutes, she's turned the nuts into a relatively fine powder, scraping it into a wooden bowl before scooping out another handful to grind. Then it hits me. She's making flour. Having never seen the process done like this before, I inch forward a bit more, fascinated by the fluid motion of her hands and wrists.

According to my father, when our ancestors were still back on Earth, we Mellarks were bakers. But after the mass Exodus, the occupation of "artisan baker" was one of many that were lost due to the change of lifestyle aboard the ships. The knowledge behind it, though, was something my father and grandfather felt the need to pass on from one generation to the next, no doubt in the hopes that one day, we Mellarks could get the chance to revive the craft.

Curious, I watch her for a few minutes, waiting to see what she'll do next. When she's done with the rest of the nuts, she pushes the stones aside, reaching for a flatter one that she rubs something onto before carefully inching it into the fire. Glancing into the bowl, I see she's got a pretty decent amount of flour, to which she then adds a handful of dried flakes and a few splashes of water from what looks to be a water skin, before plunging her hands into the mixture. After rinsing the paste off her fingers, she settles back into her spot by the fire, assessing me again with those piercing grey eyes.

She's got to be burning inside with questions, but she's either much better at hiding it than I am, or she just doesn't care. But I don't believe that either. Instead of bringing me here, she could have left me to the likes of whatever it was back in the woods. I owe her my life, and for that, she's earned my respect.

Hard as I try though, I can't help but ask the one question perched on the tip of my tongue. "May I ask you something?" Without so much as a glance, she nods. "Your antlers, they're real, right?"

"My what?" That catches her attention and I motion to the top of her head. "Oh, my crown," she says, her voice much lighter, almost friendly. Reaching up, she rubs the spot where one grows from her head like a tree. It seems my being an ignorant star person has now earned me some leniency with my personal probing. "Yes, it is a part of me. I assume they do not have them where you are from?"

"No, we do not. But before, you called me something, an _Avox_? What is that?"

"In my herd, if a male does not have a crown, it is because he has shed it, or it was cut from his head."

"And that makes you an _Avox_?"

Though she hides it well, there's a flicker of something in her eyes. "It means banishment. Exile from the herd as punishment."

I consider myself somewhat good at reading people, and by the sounds of it, I might have hit a little too close to home on that one. But now that I've finally got her talking, I'm not about to take two steps back. "So, you said the men, they shed their ant—I mean, crowns?"

"Each year, around this time. When they reach maturity, the males of my herd retreat to the woods for a fortnight where they shed their crowns."

"They're gone for two whole weeks?" This earns me a quirk of her lips and if my ears aren't deceiving me, a quiet chuckle. I can't help but smile too.

"It is messy, which is why they leave our village for a camp not far away. And because they are worse than fawns during that time."

"And the women? I mean, females?"

Her face shifts as an uncomfortable pause settles between us, during which she looks anywhere but my face. I'm starting to regret asking when she picks up a stick and pokes at the fire. "Yes, the females shed their crowns too when the season changes and the weather warms."

"Does it hurt?"

Her doe eyes widen, and a pretty flush stains the apples of her cheeks. Have I hit another nerve so soon? Damn, I seem to be on a roll today. She still can't look me in the face, but eventually, she stops fidgeting with the fire and chances a glance up at me. "I do not know, but I am told it is painless."

If the way her chest fills out the front of her dress is any indication, I'd say she's definitely more woman than girl. But what the hell do I know—maybe she's just an early bloomer. I can't help but ask though, "Why haven't you shed yours yet?" There it is again: another long awkward pause where she can't even look at me, and I'm starting to think from now on, antlers are an off-limits topic.

The flush has spread down to her neck now and she clears her throat. "Because I have yet to mate."

 _Shit._ That was way too personal. My mouth opens, then closes, trying to form some sort of an apology. I just stare at her as the seconds draw out into minutes. Damn my curiosity, I'm such an idiot! Here she is, taking me in and providing shelter, and how do I repay her? By embarrassing her of course, even if it was unintentional. "I'm so sorry, I—I didn't mean to, uh, offend you." I should really change the subject and save us both any further humiliation.

She does the honor for me and focuses her attention back to her bowl of paste. Scooping out a handful, she forms it into a thin patty before slapping it onto the now hot stone in the fire. It sizzles for a few seconds before she adds another and another until the stone is almost completely covered.

Wiping her hands on the floor, she finally looks over at me. "When I found you, you had only that," she says, pointing to my sleeping bag on the floor. "It does not look very warm. Your POD fell in _Erimos_ , did it not? How did you survive?"

"My suit," I say, outstretching my arms for her to see. "It keeps me warm."

She inches a bit closer, reaching out but not quite touching my arm. "It is warm. Is it magic?"

Chuckling, I point to the screen embedded on my forearm. "No, but I really couldn't tell you how it works. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep during thermodynamics." She gives me a curious look, but I shake my head. "Never mind."

Glancing around the interior of the cave again, I notice a pile of furs on the floor towards the back. Must be her bed. And a comfy looking one at that. Then I remember the noise we heard out where she found me. She said she wasn't the only hunter, so I'm guessing it's safe to say that around here, there are some pretty mean creatures lurking at the top of the food chain. Better to find out now what I'm dealing with, in case her hospitality comes with an expiration date.

"Your fur," I say, pointing towards her discarded cape on the floor. "What is that from?"

"My father."

I quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps she didn't understand my question. "I meant, what kind of _animal_ was it? Not who gave it to you."

"I am wearing my _father's_ hide."

As if what she's just said is a perfectly acceptable explanation, she calmly reaches over and using a piece of wood, flips over the sizzling bread patties. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end as I gape at her, utterly speechless.

"When it is time for my people to join the spirit world," she continues, "they disappear into the mountains where the transformation takes place and our bodies return to the true form of our ancestors. After they have passed, their flesh nourishes us and we remove their hides as a token so they will always remain with us."

I need a moment to process what it is she's saying exactly, but no matter how I spin it in my head, these people eat their dead family. And wear their skins to boot. _Shit_ that's morbid. What kind of a messed up, barbaric planet did I drop onto? My eyes dart to my pack, ready to bolt.

Katniss bursts out laughing, the melodic yet raspy tenor of her voice indicates that it's not a common occurrence. "Oh, my Peeta, I thought you liked to laugh?"

"Wait…are you joking?" It doesn't slip by me that she's called me "hers," but I'm not about to correct her semantics, not when she's smiling and laughing like I've just made her day.

"I do not know what joking is, but this," she says, lifting the fur off the ground and spreading it over her crossed legs, "is _not_ my father. He was a great hunter and this is the fur of the great _ursid_ that attacked him. He took it down with no more than a blade and his fists."

"An _ursid_?"

Forming claws with her hands, Katniss mimics a low roar that rumbles from her throat. My confusion must be evident since she picks up her arrow once again and starts drawing something on the floor. "A large creature that lives in this part of the land. They are not skilled hunters but will attack if you come too close to their home."

Glancing down at her sketch, it looks a lot like a bear but with a longer snout and tail, similar to a wolf. I'm not sure if the long claws are an exaggeration, but if her father was able to take that mean looking thing down with a knife and his bare hands? I'd never stand a chance. "I don't think I'd like to meet one of those."

She nods, still chuckling to herself as she quickly flicks the now crispy bread off the hot stone. Once cooled, she picks one up, and holding it out, offers it to me. "Eat."

Curious, I take it from her, blowing across the surface before taking a bite. The outside is crunchy, the inside dense and surprisingly moist. Not bad really, and it sure beats those protein bars. Smiling, I finishing chewing and swallow. "Thank you," I say as she digs into one herself. "It's good."

Three bites later it's all gone, and she offers me another, but I politely decline. I'm not quite sure how my stomach will react to the new food, so better to play it safe and hold off until it adjusts.

Rising to her feet, Katniss works her fingers through the braid slung over her shoulder, her freed hair falling into loose waves. "Enough talk for tonight. It is time for sleep."

After barely any sleep over the past 48 hours, I can't argue with that. I'm finally able to relax a bit more knowing that I'll be spending the night up here. My adrenaline high has come and gone, and so it's only a matter of time before my body crashes. Using my sleeping bag as a mattress, I stretch out my legs and roll onto my back, lacing my fingers behind my head to form a pillow with my palms. I close my eyes, listening for a moment as Katniss shuffles about on the other side of the fire. Something lands at my head and I startle. Reaching up, I find it's a fur, soft and supple beneath my fingers.

"Thank you," I call out, folding it into a makeshift pillow as I settle back down. But then I laugh quietly, and can't seem to help myself. "Should I ask who I have the pleasure of sleeping on tonight? A distant relative I hope."

Katniss snorts and I can almost picture her rolling her eyes. "Sleep."

My eyes fall shut again, but my mind is still racing as I go over the events of the past 24 hours. What will happen tomorrow? Will she send me packing to survive on my own? Where will I go? Maybe she'll want me to stay, but is that a good idea? What about the rest of her people? What about mine? And the other tributes? Did any of them make it?

I recall something Professor Heavensbee once mentioned, about how creatures that adapt the best to their environment and circumstances have the greatest chance of survival. If the rest of my people were to come here, would we be able to adapt? Would we be able to survive this place without help from Katniss and her people?

Probably not, at first. And I consider myself quite an optimistic person. Hundreds of years living aboard ships have put us at a disadvantage. Our first ancestors who left Earth possessed the necessary survival skills that we now have only studied in theory. If we are to survive, we'll have to adapt and fast.

With all these thoughts and questions swirling around inside my head, how am I supposed to sleep now?

The silence of the cave fills with a wordless tune as Katniss begins to hum, the sultry notes unlike anything I've heard. And before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This story has been in the works for quite some time so I'm thrilled to finally be posting the first chapter! It's my first attempt at the fantasy/sci-fi genre, so I hope you enjoyed it. It was lots of fun to create and write, and thought I'd share a few fun facts I learned during my research:

\- Of all the deer species, female reindeer are the only ones who have antlers and shed them. The males (who use theirs to fight over females) shed in early winter after mating season while the females (who use theirs to defend their food and territory) shed theirs in the spring.

\- You'll find that a lot of Katniss's culture is based on that of early Native Americans, with a few twists here and there of course. As for language, I borrowed a bit from the Latin names of things and even dabbled in some Greek mythology at times, so I've decided to italicize these words throughout this story to indicate which words Peeta wouldn't understand since they would have evolved independently on Katniss's planet.

A huge thanks to _**court81981**_ and _**ct522 (Titania522)**_ for their beta expertise and encouragement during the lonely writing process, and to _**HGRomance (andshewaits)**_ for her sage advice and feedback which helped mold this to what it is now. These ladies are all such talented authors who I admire and am honored to call friends. And of course, this story wouldn't exist if it wasn't for _**loving-mellark**_ who provided me with the spark and encouragement to tackle this plot bunny. Thank you so much for the gorgeous banner and for being such a wonderful friend! I'd also encourage you to check out the lovely piece of artwork called "It's Love" by Tannany over on DeviantArt where inspiration for this story started!

I'd love to hear your thoughts! Reviews and feedback are always welcome! Thanks for taking the time to read and hope you enjoy this one!

As always, you can find me over on tumblr: _**pookieh**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated 'M' for language and future sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

* * *

Something nudges my foot— _hard_ —jarring me awake. Blinking long and slow, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, my mind still clinging to the blissful vestige of sleep. It's quiet…too quiet. The ambient hum and whirring of the ship is eerily absent, the sound of my own breathing too loud in my ears. Then, like a switch, my memory flickers on and everything returns in a rush.

The cave is dark, but the embers from last night's fire are still glowing, casting enough light for me to see Katniss milling about, and tucking things into a pouch at her hip. When she secures her fur cape around her neck, I know something's up.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I force myself up. "We going somewhere?"

"No, you will stay here. I must get water and check the snares." My mouth opens in protest, but with a hard look and a shake of her head, I'm silenced. The unease of being left behind must be obvious because she pauses at the mouth of the cave, hand poised and ready to pull back the mat. "I will not be long. If you are hungry, those are for you," she says, pointing by the fire.

Eyeing the breakfast she's laid out for me I notice a pile of the fried bread from last night and a bowl of dried purple berries. The meal itself might not be much, but it's the gesture that holds much more promise. It feels good to finally be making some headway, and if I'm not mistaken, I may have just upgraded from stranger to houseguest. Fitting that my stomach chooses to rumble just then.

"When I return," Katniss continues, "I will take to you the stream so you can wash, if you wish."

Still in no position to be making demands, I stifle a yawn and nod. "I'd like that very much, thank you." Another urge hits me just as she's about to leave and my stomach clenches. Clearing my throat, I catch her attention. "Am I allowed to leave the cave?" I ask. Arching an eyebrow, Katniss frowns. "I mean, is it safe? I, uh, kinda have to…um…relieve myself."

For a few awkward moments she continues to stare at me, but then her eyes widen as understanding hits. "Oh." Moving away from the opening, she shuffles past me towards the back of the cave and grabs hold of a hide that's tacked up onto the wall. Pulling it back, she beckons me forward. "It is not safe outside," she says, stepping out of the way to reveal a tall but shallow depression in the rock. "You may go here."

"Is that what I think it is?" Joining her where she is, I peer down through a hole in the rocky floor. A good twenty feet below I can just make out the rippling movement of water. "Indoor plumbing, how convenient," I say, flashing Katniss a grateful smile. She doesn't return it right away, but when she does, the way it transforms her face is heart stopping. I must be staring too hard because her smile falters and she glances away. Then turning on her heel, she quickly makes her way back to the cave entrance.

On her way out, I swear she mutters something under her breath, followed by a low chuckle. With a final peek over her shoulder, she disappears behind the mat.

I rush to the front of the cave and listen for the moment she hits the ground. But there's nothing, just the faint twitter of birds outside and the random pops and hisses from the fire pit. Damn, she's quiet.

Having never slept on the floor before—let alone the _ground_ —I take a good long while to stretch out my arms and legs, rolling my shoulders a couple times. I better get used to the stiff muscles though. I have a sneaking suspicion I won't be seeing a bed or mattress anytime soon.

Alone once again, I nibble on a piece of fried bread and pull out the HOLO, but when I try to turn it on, I'm met with a blank screen. Damn it. Stuffing the rest of the bread into my mouth, I peek out the entrance of the cave in search of an inconspicuous spot to charge the HOLO.

As I search for my pack, I catch a faint whiff of myself, and damn, I really could use a dip in the stream. With my stomach still gurgling, I scarf down a protein bar, chasing away the blandness with the dried berries. I'm about to put away my rations when I pause. Now that I know there's an accessible supply of drinkable water nearby, perhaps I'll show Katniss some of the dehydrated rations. Even if they do taste like crap, I'm sure she'll get a kick out of the rehydration process. Probably think it's some sort of magic again. I set one aside and tidy up my sleeping bag and makeshift pillow, refolding the fur and setting everything off to the side so it's out of the way. Nobody likes an untidy houseguest.

After making use of the facilities, I do what any normal person would do when left alone in someone else's space: I snoop. But there's not really much to the cave—just her bed at the back, a neatly organized pile of wooden bowls, flasks made of hide, and smaller pouches which, after peeking into a few, I discover she's using to store dried leaves and berries. Propped up against the wall is quite the collection of blades and spikes and a long, wicked looking spear.

Taking one of the wooden spikes in hand, I test the weight of it and study it up close, only to realize that the tip isn't wood at all, but rather a piece of sharpened antler. Huh. Do they use their own to make these? Regardless, being struck by one of these would definitely leave a mark, if not kill you first. A few arrows are amongst the pile of weapons, and I notice that those too are tipped with sharpened bits of bone and antler.

Placing the spike back where I found it, I finish off the berries and wash them down with a long slurp of water from my canteen. I make a mental note not to drink any water straight from the source, not until I'm sure my gut can survive the local microbes. I unpack and reorganize my supplies again, just for something to do, but I can only drag the task out for so long.

With nothing else left to pass the time, I blow out a long breath and glance around at the blank walls surrounding me. That's when I notice the embers from the fire again, and amongst them, a few bits of charred wood. An idea tickles at the back of my mind and I pluck out a piece of wood, testing the tip against my thumb. _Perfect_. Finding a bit of flat space on the cave wall, I settle in and get to work.

An hour or two later, I step back, scraping my thumb against the stubble already sprouting from my chin. Tilting my head, I reach out and smudge a bit of the charcoal to my liking, then cross my arms over my chest.

Something thumps to the floor behind me.

"What is that?"

Looking over my shoulder, I find Katniss removing her cape with a pile of dead…something at her feet.

"What are those?" I ask back.

Katniss takes a couple steps forward, ignoring my question as she reaches out her fingers to hover over my work. "Is this where you are from?"

"Yeah, that's my ship, Panem-12." I run a hand up the back of my head and take a step away, allowing her more room to study the wall. "Fourteen ships left my home planet, Earth, but only thirteen have made it this far." _Pretty good odds_ , my father used to say, all things considered.

"What happened to it?"

"The fourteenth ship?" She nods and I blow out a long breath, scratching at the nape of my neck.

I'm not sure how much to divulge, not because I want to deceive her, but more because I don't know how much of it she'll understand. Truth is, no one really knows for sure what happened aboard Panem-13, and considering it happened well before my time, I'm only going on the stories I've overheard. One moment it was there, then the next, all that was left was a pile of floating debris. Over a thousand lives silenced in an instant. According to the Capitol, there was a catastrophic malfunction with the ship's energy source, the fusion reactor. But considering the majority of our fleet's scientists and physicists were aboard that ship, it left many questioning otherwise.

None of this will make any sense to Katniss though, so I opt for the simplified version of the truth. "The engines failed."

She frowns then nods, but I'm not sure she completely understands what that means. "And your people?"

"They didn't survive."

Eyes wide, she looks up at me. "They all perished?"

"Not _all_ of my people, but yeah, the ones aboard that ship did."

Turning her attention back to my sketch, she goes quiet. I watch from the corner of my eye, trying to get a read on her, but she's apparently a master at masking her emotions. "How many of your people are there?" she eventually asks.

"Each of our ships carries around a thousand people, so about thirteen thousand, give or take a few hundred. There've been a few incidents along the way where half a ship's population was wiped out due to localized epidemics, but they always bounced back within a few generations."

And my brothers and I are living proof of that. A few years before Emmer was born, our ship suffered an outbreak that took out half the population of those under the age of eighteen. Once the virus had run its course, the procreation limit was increased as a desperate hope of restoring balance to the population. Lucky for me and Rye, we were born just over a year apart, right before the limit was lowered again. A few months later and I'd have never existed.

"When my ancestors were preparing to leave Earth," I continue, "they planned for that sort of thing. Spreading the population out to make sure enough of us made it to…wherever it is we're supposed to end up."

"More of your people will come here?"

I'm a little hesitant to answer, seeing as how I'm not exactly certain myself, but I settle for a curt nod.

"What do they want?" she asks.

I thought I'd already made that obvious, but maybe not. "My people are searching for a new home."

Still staring at my sketch, Katniss goes quiet once again. This time I can see the wheels turning in her head, about what though, I can only guess. To alleviate any concerns, I start into the spiel we were told to give in case we happened to make contact with the local inhabitants.

"You see, my people are refugees," I start, trying to inject as much false sincerity into my voice as possible. "Our home planet, Earth, became inhabitable and was no longer able to sustain us. We've been searching the galaxies for a habitual planet for many, many years in hopes of putting an end to our wandering. We have much to offer, and it would be to both our people's advantage if we could find a way to live and work alongside each other as allies."

"Allies?" she repeats, the curious tilt of her head letting me know she's not sure what I mean.

"Friends," I supply instead.

There, I said it. More or less the exact words President Snow and his council think will fool the inhabitants of whatever planet is trusting enough to take pity on us into a false sense of security. Under the direction of a leader who had even the tiniest shred of human decency, those words might ring true. But President Snow is not a man to be trusted, and even I can see through his thinly veiled plan of planetary domination all in the name of humanity.

The silver lining though, however small it may be, is that a couple months prior to the draft, there were whisperings of discord amongst the council. Rumors spread through the ships like a power surge of a possible overthrow, replacing President Snow and his faithful followers with a more transparent and less internally corrupt government. I can only hope that for the sake of Katniss's people, those rumors become reality.

All this uncertainty is what's keeping me from revealing too much to Katniss, picking and choosing what bits will get her to trust me and not think all humans are merciless and desperate. But that doesn't mean I don't feel guilty as hell for having to lie to her. If only I wasn't cut off from communicating with my ship, I'd have a better sense of what was going on. There's a chance one of the other planets proves to be a better candidate, and if that's the case, and even if they didn't explicitly say it out loud, it's safe to assume no one is coming for me.

On that depressing note, I sneak a glance over to Katniss, wondering what's going on behind that blank stare of hers. Maybe she's pieced together the possibility that the arrival of my people in such great numbers might not be all of a good thing. Or she's smarter than she's letting on and knows I'm not telling her the whole truth.

As if she knows my thoughts have veered in her direction, Katniss glances back at me. For the second time since she found me out in the middle of the woods, she takes me off guard with a smile, one that I'm hesitant to return.

She reaches over and placing a hand on my arm, gives it a gentle squeeze. "Come, let us take a walk."

It feels good to get the blood pumping through my limbs again, to breathe in the fresh air and hold it in my lungs as a breeze washes over me. Katniss, on the other hand, is on a mission, and I march my way through the underbrush after her. The hike to our destination takes no more than fifteen minutes, and along the way, Katniss points out some of the local plants, informing me which ones are safe to eat and which ones to stay away from unless I want to spend the day with my head between my knees emptying the contents of my stomach. A few of the fruiting bushes, she says, are deadly, so I take extra care to study and commit them to memory. Just a handful of one in particular, _nightlock_ she called it, is enough to kill a grown man in his sleep. The sleeping death, it's fittingly called.

When a stream comes into view, she hangs back by the tree line and points to an area along the bank where the grass looks tamped down. "It is shallow there; the water is slow."

It's a good thing the weather's warmer out today, given I didn't think to bring the sleeping bag or anything else to use as a towel. Before reaching the edge of the stream, I kick off my boots and skim a toe through the water, but then I lose my balance and my entire foot goes splashing beneath the surface. "Damn, that's brisk!" I shout.

Laughter breaks out behind me, but I choose to ignore it and shake my head. Although I'm personally not offended by public nudity, for her sake I'm better off keeping this quick.

I unzip the top of my suit and shrug it off my shoulders, turning to the side to toss it down on a dry patch of grass. Katniss is still there, but I'm surprised to find her eyes trained on me instead of the woods. Well, if she wants to watch, then let her watch. Still ignoring her, I pull my undershirt over my head and I swear I hear a small gasp when she catches sight of my skin, but it's probably because of how fair I am. Goosebumps prickle my exposed skin, but it's her flushed cheeks and piercing stare that send a shiver down my spine. Is she checking me out? Because I swear there's something in her eyes that's crossing the border into "I'm more than just clinically curious" territory.

To test my theory, I run a hand across my shoulder then down to scratch at my ribcage. When I sneak a second peek over my shoulder, I have to suppress my amusement when I notice her eyes glued to my chest. Hmm…interesting. This next part should be fun.

Looping my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear and pants, I shove them down my legs and kick them off to the side. There's no mistaking her gasp this time, but when I look over, it's not my crotch that she's staring at. It's my leg.

Despite my blatant nakedness, Katniss makes her way towards me. I reflexively cover my privates. "You bear the mark of the Spirits?"

"The what?" Still staring, she points at the hunk of metal and plastic that makes up the lower portion of my left leg. "Oh, um, no. An unfortunate accident when I was a child. They had to amputate from the knee down due to infection, but they gave me a new one that works just fine."

With embarrassment written clearly across her face, Katniss spins on her heel and scurries back up to the edge of the trees, this time keeping her ramrod-straight back to me.

As much as I'd like to stand around naked all day, I ease myself into the water, taking it slow so I don't trip and fall in face first. Once up to my waist, I extend out my arms, letting the lazy current brush along my fingertips. "So," I say, turning and gingerly sliding my feet against the rocky bottom, "what did you mean when you said I was marked by the Spirits?"

Keeping her back still to me, she clears her throat. "My people believe that when a fawn is born unlike the others, it is an omen from the Spirits that change is on the horizon."

 _Huh_. Now that's a coincidence if I ever did see one. That aside though, it makes me wonder how common of an occurrence something like that is around here. Onboard the ships, there's just enough diversity, and at times intervention, to keep genetic abnormalities at bay. It also helps that each ship has a genetic back-up plan in the form of frozen embryos that we've carried with us all the way from Earth. If ever faced with the problem of keeping the gene pool deep enough, our ancestors thought that one out too.

I catch Katniss stealing a quick glance over her shoulder, and I can't help myself from wiggling my eyebrows at her like a mischievous little boy. I've never been much of a flirt, but I've seen the way some girls back on the ship have looked at me before, and that's exactly how Katniss is looking at me now.

Sinking lower into the water, I inhale a quick breath then dunk beneath the surface to scrub my hair clean. She's not there when I resurface, which causes a ripple of unease to rush over me and I stand to get a better look around. There, a short distance away, I find Katniss bent over, foraging for something in the tall grass. Something inside me stirs and I suck in a sharp breath. Now _I'm_ the one staring but I don't think she'd find it quite so amusing if I get caught. Shaking my head, I trudge back onto the grass and locate my discarded clothes.

Using my undershirt to dry off, I forego my underwear, tucking it into the back pocket of my pants after slipping back into my suit. Giving my head a good shake, I step back into my boots and join Katniss, who's digging up some roots with a stick. "How can I help?" I ask.

She hands me a pouch and points to some plants floating on the surface of the water a little further up the stream. "Those plants floating in the water, that is _watercress_ ; you can start with that."

As I set to my task of scooping out large clumps of the water plant, we make small talk. Although, it seems I'm doing more of the asking and her more of the answering. Since we're foraging, the topic of food naturally comes up, and I ask about her people's typical diet. She explains that for meat, they hunt the large water birds with their bows and arrows and use lures and nets to catch fish from the streams. Smaller game is trapped using a variety of snares, a few of which she promises to show me tomorrow, as well as how to set them. Leaves and roots from wild plants round out the rest of their meals, along with nuts and berries, which they use for a whole variety of things ranging from food to medicine and even jewelry.

When I ask about the larger game, though, she says there is no honor in hunting them, for they are cherished by the Wood Spirit. To kill one, unless out of self-defense, is forbidden. The furs and hides of those that pass naturally are free for the taking, but only if the animal's spirit has left the body and has been blessed before taking it.

I lose track of time as she goes on to describe the different ceremonies and rituals her people practice for everything from fertility and birth to healing and death and the passage to the realm of the dead. A lot of them sound eerily similar to those of my ancestors, strange yet fascinating, even if most of them are based on nothing more than superstition.

Daylight is starting to fade, and with our packs full, we head back to the cave, but along a different path than whence we came. I'm trying to memorize as much as I can, but after a while, all the trees and rocks start to look the same.

We pause as she stops at a tree trunk and rips a couple strips of bark from the trunk. "For the fire and new pouches," she says, tucking them into her belt.

The remainder of the dwindling afternoon we spend sorting and processing our haul. Katniss lays out some of the plants and berries to dry, while I'm on shelling duty with the nuts. When I tell to her about the dehydrated rations, explaining how all you have to do is add a little water and the food comes back to its original freshness, she stops me immediately so I can show her. The simplest yet most palatable of the rations is the bread, and she watches, eyes wide with astonishment as the thin white slices expand and fluff up.

"Wait a minute," I say, scooting over to the glowing embers of the dying fire so I can lightly toast each side. When they reach a light golden brown, I hold a piece out to cool and reach for another packet, a simulated nut spread that everyone on the ship seems to like. I'm personally not a fan of the stuff—too sweet for me—but I have a feeling she'll love it. When I turn back around though, I find her on all fours, already taking a bite of the toast right out of my hand. A heated blush creeps up my neck, and when she moans her approval, I can't stop staring at her mouth.

She's about to go in for another bite when she glances up at my face and freezes. "I am sorry, is what I did wrong? Is that not how you eat it?"

"No, no, no, it's fine," I say, but she doesn't seem convinced. "It's just that…onboard my ship, one of the rituals my people still practice is a marriage ceremony called a toasting."

"What is marriage?"

"Uh, when two people come together and unite, forming a bond."

Katniss nods her head. "Mating."

"Well, I mean, yeah that's involved but it's more than just sex. It's a union, a contract so to speak, stating that a couple will support each other and stay true to one another and one day raise a family together."

"Ah, I understand. You mean coupling."

I'm almost certain my face is flaming red right now, but I force myself to forge on. "Yeah, you could call it that. And a toasting is when a couple heats bread over a fire and then feed it to each other to signify their union."

I glance down at the piece of toast in my hand, focusing a little too hard on where her mouth left a perfect little bite mark, before dragging my gaze back up to hers. I can't seem to look away from those endless pools of grey, drawn to them like a magnetic pull. But then understanding suddenly dawns on her and before I know it, she's blushing too. Then she looks away, and the brief yet heated moment between us gone in an instant.

It's a little ironic that that's the exact moment the last of the glowing embers decide to fizzle out in a wisp of smoke. "I should restart that," she murmurs, but I'm not sure why she's whispering; it's only the two of us.

She crawls away, and I take a moment to exhale deeply, but she's not gone long, returning to the fire pit with a small bow and a stick. Kneeling down and using the bow, she begins to spin the stick against a piece of bark she's placed in the center of the pit.

We're both quiet while she works, but now I'm a little curious about the marriage rituals of her people and after a solid minute of hemming and hawing, I finally ask.

"In my herd," she starts to explain, her attention focused on her task, "if a male is interested in taking a mate, he presents her with a gift. If she accepts, then they are paired."

A few curls of smoke begin to rise from the bark, my eyes trained to the spinning stick as it starts to glow a bright orange. "That simple, huh?"

"Simple?" She snorts, then bends down lower to gently blow and coax the tiny flames. My eyes have a mind of their own as they drift over to Katniss's backside, the fringed hem of her dress teasing the bare backs of her thighs. Oblivious to my wandering gaze, she sits back on her knees and plants her fists on her hips. "I would like to see _you_ start a fire on the first try."

Fighting back a smirk, I can't help but rise up to the challenge. Reaching for my pack, I fish out my kinetic lighter and shoo her away. When I snuff out her flame, though, she huffs and makes a grab for my hand. Her mouth opens to protest, but I hold up a finger. Striking the lighter against my thigh five times in quick succession, I flip open the cap and press the glowing red tip to the piece of bark she was just using. Within a few seconds, it's curling in on itself, the edges glowing bright orange.

"How is that possible?"

"Not magic, in case you were wondering." Grinning, I flip the cap closed and toss the lighter in her lap. I've never seen a person move so quickly as she scampers away, hissing and scowling as if I've just tried to light her up. "And when I said simple, I meant the pairing of your people, not the fire."

"Hmm?" Too busy inspecting the lighter, it takes a moment for my words to register. "Oh, yes. Is it more complicated with your people?"

"I guess you could say so." Settling back down as the fire catches to the surrounding tipi of sticks, I lean back on my elbows and watch as she mimics my earlier motions, striking the lighter against her thigh. "There's the whole initial meeting, then courting, then meeting the parents, an engagement, and then finally a toasting, signifying the couple's commitment to each other. The whole thing can go on for years sometimes."

Finally tearing her eyes away from her newfound toy, she gapes at me. "Years?" I nod and she shakes her head. "That is a waste of time."

Shrugging, I can't seem to argue. I stare into the flames, thinking back to life aboard the ship. I deliberately left out the part about how, with the marriage restriction currently in place, things are even more difficult. Only those who can prove themselves physically and mentally capable through a series of tests are given the chance to select a partner. I have to admit, I've spent a few sleepless nights wondering if it'd be worth all the hassle. Jumping through all the hoops to be matched with someone when there was no guarantee it would be a love match. Would it be worth it? Maybe I'm just a romantic at heart, but I like to think that when it comes to marriage, it's a union based on mutual love and respect, not the ability to produce superior offspring. And when it comes to love, there's no questioning it; you can't force it. It's something that just happens, and when it does, you just _know_.

And what I know for fact right now is that I'm going to be sick.

During my musings, Katniss decided to see to the rabbit-like animals she brought in earlier. Using a blade, she makes a slit near the head and then with a swift round of tugs, rips the fur and skin straight from the body. After handling the rest of the carcasses in the same manner, she sets to slicing the meat from the bones and piling it on a wooden plank. The bones and innards go into another pile, and I'm actually a little impressed at how she's even collecting the blood, making the whole process a lot less messy than I expected. When I ask if she wants me to take away the scrap pile, she says no, informing me that nothing goes to waste.

Onboard the ship, one of the few nutritional sources of protein we have is rabbit. Being easy to care for and of course, made easily abundant, I've never really put much thought into what went into preparing the meat. Now I'm glad I was never a part of it.

I have to turn my head every once in a while to keep from gagging, but the coppery scent of blood and raw flesh is starting to become overwhelming. Before I can make an excuse to escape and get some fresh air, she asks me to place a few of the larger smooth stones into the fire. Taking a quick inhale of smoke to combat the stench, I'm thankful to see that she's done with the meat and has moved on to set up some sort of tripod. Using some sticks that are bound at the top, she positions it near the fire and then turns her attention to cleaning up the mess.

A bag dangles in the middle of the tripod and when I kneel down for a closer inspection, I run my finger along the edge and ask, "What is this made of?"

"The stomach of a _wisent_." When I cock an eyebrow she picks up a stick and draws a four-legged animal with short blunt horns. I'd say it looks somewhat like the extinct buffalo that used to roam the North American plains back on Earth. I always did have a passion for history, and now I'm glad what my brothers used to call the recollection of useless facts and information is actually coming in handy.

With the less appealing parts of the animals out of sight, Katniss sets to work on a few of the root vegetables. Starchy tubers of a kind of water plant that she says she's named after and something called _tipsin_ is roughly chopped into chunks and she tears up some leaves and the watercress I collected from the stream. If I didn't know any better, I'd say stew is on tonight's menu.

When she asks me to pour some water into the primitive cooking pot, I know I'm right. By now the stones in the fire are red-hot, and she expertly scoops them up with a forked stick and drops them one by one into the sac, the water hissing and sizzling the moment they hit the surface. It doesn't take long for the water to come to a boil, and then she dumps in the prepared meat and vegetables and adds some herbs from her collection of bark containers.

Leaning in, I take a sniff of the strange concoction and I have to admit, despite being cooked in an old animal stomach with some stones, the stuff smells pretty damn good.

As we sit and wait, I offer to make up another dehydrated ration to go with dinner. She asks if there's any more of the bread, and she's in luck; there's one more left. As I toast the slices over the fire, I jump back into my line of questioning, starting with determining if there are any other races inhabiting this planet that I should know about.

"Are there any other herds besides yours?"

"Yes, there are more. Elders from other herds will visit our village once every few years, but beyond that, the herds tend to keep to themselves."

"And are they like you?"

"What do you mean?"

"They have crowns too?"

Frowning, she gives me a funny look. "Yes, of course."

"What about beyond the snow desert? Does anyone live out there?"

She hesitates, her lips pressing together in a thin, firm line. "Those who enter _Tundar_ do not return."

Thinking back to the image from the HOLO when I first landed, I try to recall what the terrain looked like and if the signal picked up the other mountain range or not. I don't think it did, and based on Katniss's ominous description, it has to be a considerable journey across the dead zone, and not an easy one. Setting that thought aside, I find myself wanting to know more about her. Why is she here, living alone in a cave? Does she have a family? Do they know she's here?

"Can I ask you something personal?" I eventually ask. She studies me for a long moment with that guarded look that I'm becoming quite accustomed to, then gives a short nod. "Have you always lived here? By yourself?"

"No," she answers, looking away towards the fire. "Not always."

When she doesn't continue right away, I lean in a bit closer, crossing my arms over my knees. "What happened?"

"It is a long story."

Making a production of shifting to a more comfortable position, I stretch out onto my side and prop my head up on my hand. "I've got time."

With a heavy sigh, Katniss settles cross-legged by the fire. She takes a stick and stirs the contents of the pot, which has now reduced to a lower simmer, sending a waft of stew my way. "It is said," she starts, setting the stick down next to her, "that during the Dark Days, these woods were once bountiful with many magical creatures. One of these was the jabberjay, a favorite of the Spirits, for they were gifted with the ability to speak. In exchange for food and protection, the Spirits used the jabberjays to carry messages to my people from the heavens.

"Little did my ancestors know that the jabberjays were also spies, reporting back the behavior of my people to the Spirits. If the Spirits were unhappy, they would stop the rains or send forth powerful winds that could destroy a village in a blink of an eye. To appease the jabberjays, my ancestors traveled across the Great Sea to find a suitable mate and gain favor with the jabberjays.

"They brought back with them the mockingbird," she continues, "a rather plain bird, but they had the most beautiful song of all the creatures. Pleased, the jabberjays mated with the mockingbirds, and their offspring began to fill the woods. The mockingjays, as my ancestors called them, bore the best qualities of their parents: the beautiful blue and white plumage of the jabberjay and the docile temperament of the mockingbird, as well as the ability to replicate any melody they heard.

"But soon the jabberjays refused to carry messages back to the Spirits, angering them. Once again, my ancestors found themselves in a predicament. The elders decided that in order to give thanks and appease the Spirits, a sacrifice had to be made. The life of one to feed the many, and so at each harvest feast, a mockingjay was given as an offering to the Spirits. This pleased them, and my ancestors lived with abundance and favor in the eyes of the Spirits for many, many years."

"Sounds a lot like how my leaders view society," I say, thinking bitterly of the draft. "Sacrifice one for the greater good of humanity."

Katniss goes quiet but then picks up her stirring stick again, eyes focused on the simmering surface of the stew. "But then came a day when it became harder and harder to track down a mockingjay, for their songs no longer filled the woods. The elders at the time grew panicked. Without a suitable offering, they would fall out of favor with the Spirits once again. They had grown too complacent during their years of abundance. They no longer stored more than they needed, so it was a harsh realization when they were only able to fill the food huts with enough to last them to the next harvest.

"The elders deliberated for many months until they agreed that the Spirits would require an even greater sacrifice than the mockingjays. So as it still is to this day, it was decreed that each year after the harvest, an innocent would be reaped. Only those in their thirteenth year are eligible, for if they are any older—"

"Wait, wait, wait... _what_?" But then the answer is settling in the pit of my stomach before I ask the question. "You mean to say your people sacrifice _children_?" She replies with a nod, quick and sharp.

She can't be serious. She's fooling me like she did with her father's fur. But there's no mischief in her eyes, just a hollow dead look that sends my stomach rolling. What kind of a messed up place is this?

"Yes, a blood sacrifice must be made. That is the way it has been for many, many years. My sister…" Katniss pauses and looks away, but it's not hard to miss the wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes. "She was chosen."

I'm up on my knees, the need to take her in my arms and comfort her in any way that I possibly can is so strong that I'm already reaching out to her. But I catch myself. A stranger like me is probably the last person she wants to be comforted by, so I sink back onto my knees and settle for words I know aren't any consolation. "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

With a jerking nod, Katniss tosses down the stick and runs the back of her hand across her nose, grief lingering in her expression. "We are taught from fawns that it is an honor, but when I saw the fear in my sister's eyes, I could not let her go. I was given a choice: take her place on the altar, or return with a more suitable offering."

I swallow thickly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as her words continue to swirl in my mind, all the pieces finally fitting together. _Oh hell no_. "Am—am _I_ your sacrifice?"

"No! You believe I am preparing you as an offering?" With her brows low on her face, she's clearly not happy with my assumption.

Breathing out slowly, I try to inject some calmness into my voice. "Can you blame me?" She stares at me for a moment longer before clicking her tongue in disgust. "So then I take it you don't share the same viewpoints as the rest of your people?"

"If I did, I would not be here."

There's a nervous tension in the air now, setting us both on edge. She locates one of her arrows, and with a small stone, starts chipping away at the end to sharpen it. When the silence between us drags on, her hands still and she levels me with a hard look.

"I am not a savage," she says between clenched teeth. "Besides, your kind are valuable." Her lips twitch and there's something in her eyes that I can't quite decipher, setting me on edge once again. But before I can ask her to elaborate, she continues on with her story.

"Three years ago my sister was chosen, but because I was too old to be an innocent at that time, I was given one moon phase to produce a suitable replacement." Focusing back on her arrow, her silence speaks volumes.

"But you couldn't?" I finally ask, my voice softer.

"No, I could not. My sister was sacrificed for my failure. Not long after, my mother was struck with the crying sickness. She did not last more than a few months." Tossing the arrow and stone to the side, Katniss heaves a heavy sigh, a distant look in her eyes.

"When I was younger," she says, staring into the fire, "I used to worry my mother. She said I was too curious, that I asked too many questions about the reaping, the food shortages, the Spirits themselves. She said no good could come from asking such questions and that one day my curiosity would bring harm to us all. I learned to hold my tongue and hide my true feelings about the laws set forth by the elders. But little good it did, especially after my father never returned after a hunting trip. With nothing left for me at my village after my mother and sister passed, the elders thought it best that I leave the village for all the trouble I had caused."

"They banished you?" I ask, not even bothering to hide the disgust in my voice. "For taking a stand against them and their barbaric ritual? Sounds to me like your elders have an issue with defiance and the right of free will."

I sit up onto my knees again and slowly shuffle closer. The tormented twist of her features causes my chest to constrict, I can't bear to see her suffer under such guilt, especially when none of it was her fault. I'm half surprised, but pleasantly so, that she doesn't shrink away when my thumb smooths over her knuckles. "Listen, none of what happened to your sister or your mother is your fault. That blame lands squarely on the shoulders of those scared and ignorant elders. You understand?" When I squeeze her hand, she finally looks up at me. "You did nothing wrong."

"It no longer matters." Katniss shakes her head. "I am not an _Avox_ , if that is what you are thinking. They did not banish me, in the end, it was my choice to go."

Looking around, I start to see the cave in a new light. "So you found this place."

"My father brought me here once when I was just a fawn. Told me to hide here if I was ever faced with trouble." With a sad smile, she glances back at me. "I never thought this would become my home."

And I never once thought I'd be selected for the draft, forced to leave everyone and everything behind for the unknown. Though we may be worlds apart on many levels, we seem to have found some common ground.

"My father told me something once," I say, studying the way her hand fits in mine. "When you least expect it, something great will come along. Something better than you ever planned for."

Neither one of us speaks for a long while, both stuck in our own heads as we stare into the fire. Naturally, my thoughts turn to my father, my brothers… _hell_ , even my mother. What are they doing right now? Do they miss me? Is my father lonely now that I'm gone? My mother's probably celebrating, reveling in the extra credits that no doubt have already made it to their account. For most parents, it's a feeble attempt at compensation for having one of your children taken from you, but for my mother, a perk.

"When I found you," Katniss eventually says, derailing my train of thought, "I thought I heard a mockingjay."

She pulls her hand away, and the loss of that little bit of warmth leaves me cold all over. "I thought you said they were extinct?"

"In all the years I have been living in these woods, not once have I come across one. I was setting my snares, singing to myself when I heard it. I could not believe my ears at first, but when I whistled the call my father and I once used, I was certain I heard it repeated back to me." Puckering her lips, she whistles a four-note tune that causes an eerie shiver to run up my spine. "I kept whistling and following the sound until…it led me to you."

I'm a little lost for words at the strange coincidence, but I guess stranger things have happened. There are other questions I want to ask, about the reaping especially, but I fear I've already pushed her enough for one night.

We eat our stew and nibble on toast in relative silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. What are my people going to think once they learn the natives of this planet sacrifice their own children to appease some god they think controls the weather? Add in the fact that they're still in the very early stages of technological advancement, I can't help but worry that if my ships arrive, Katniss's people won't stand a chance.

Katniss offers me the rest of the stew and when we're done, I offer to clean out the bowls. I'm tempted to ask if she really believes in these Spirits she's always talking about, hoping for her own sake that she's smarter than the rest of her people. Something tells me she is, but after being punished for her rebellious actions, I wouldn't be surprised if she's chosen to keep silent on her true feelings. Instead, I try to lighten the mood and ask her to tell me a bedtime story.

Her mood indeed seems to lighten at my request, so I quickly shuck off my suit and crawl into my sleeping bag wearing just my shirt, and after some creative maneuvering, shimmy my way back into my underwear. It's way more comfortable out of my suit and being next to the fire all night, I'm more than warm enough.

I feel like a little kid again as I wait, lying back on my pillow with my hands linked behind my head. But when I catch a glimpse of Katniss out of the corner of my eye, her back to me as she unlaces her dress, my mind is far from innocent. The moment her dress is inches from falling past her naked backside, I decide to take a long hard look at the fire.

After a few more moments of rustling about, I chance a second glance and find her staring at me, her dark hair fanned out over her pillow. Damn, she's beautiful. Sucking in a sharp breath, I have to shift the position of my legs beneath my sleeping bag unless I want to be tenting it right out here in the open. Clearing my throat, I give her a hesitant smile. "Whenever you're ready."

"We are the descendants of the Wood Spirit," she begins, her voice fluid and sure, as if she's told this story a hundred times before. "It is said when she birthed our world, the streams formed from her tears and the valleys and hills were forged from her screams. The trees took root from the shavings of fingernails, the birds of the air from her eyelashes, and the creatures of the land from her hair.

"The Wood Spirit loved her child very much, nurturing it day and night until the trees grew strong and tall and the land filled with beasts and the waters teemed with fish. Then one day, a star fell from the sky, but the moment he crashed into the ground, four of his points turned to arms and legs and the fifth a head. Lost and alone, the star took shelter in the woods, and the Wood Spirit took pity on him. She provided for him: food and water and creatures for companionship. Over time, she grew to love him, so much so that she forsake her heavenly duties and took on her worldly form to be with him. And with him she stayed, until the day his life light burnt out.

"With her friend and lover gone, she ascended back up to the heavens where she fell into a pit of despair, wallowing in her own misery and neglecting her child. The land turned wild, her anger transforming the hills to jagged mountains and her tears of sorrow caused the streams to swell to raging rivers and bottomless lakes. But soon the Wood Spirit discovered she was with child once again and returned to the land, making it once again habitable. That is how the first of my people came into being, born from the union of the Wood Spirit and the Fallen Star."

Knowing that behind all mythology is a hint of truth, I come to the conclusion that at some point humans must have traveled here long ago. That they had something to do with the forming of this planet, which would explain why Katniss's people speak my language. It's a lot of information to process, and so I stare up at the ceiling in silence, letting it all soak in.

The longer I allow my mind to drift, though, it keeps coming back to the same thing. What will happen when—I mean, _if_ —the rest of my people actually get here? What will become of Katniss's people? It'd be naïve to think that with our advanced society and technology it wouldn't take much to overtake this planet. It's a harsh but brutal reality, and if the rumors of President Snow and his plans for complete domination all in the name of the survival of our people are true, then I honestly fear for Katniss's people.

No matter how I spin the situation in my head, it always comes up with the losing hand. The eradication of one race for the survival of another. _Damn_ , this is all shades of messed up, and it makes my stomach turn knowing that I'm somehow playing a part in all of this, whether I want to or not. Wait, what's that tugging at the back of my conscience? Right, _guilt_.

I cover my eyes with my forearm and sigh. It's then I realize I haven't said a single word since Katniss finished her story. Tugging my sleeping bag up under my chin, I turn towards the fire and find those curious grey eyes watching me. Always watching me.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," I say, forcing a smile. "Good night, Katniss."

"Sleep well, my Peeta _._ " She turns over, wiggles around under her furs and then sighs.

I'm still staring at the back of her head long after her breathing has slowed, but all I can think about is _what the hell am I going to do_? It feels wrong to continue on with this charade; withholding the truth is just as bad as flat-out lying. _Damn, this sucks._

It's no wonder I sleep like shit that night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry it took a bit longer than I expected to post this second chapter. What can I say, real life has a way of creeping up on me. Like before, here are a few fun facts from this chapter:

\- Keeping with one of my favorite fanon creations, Peeta's middle brother is Rye (short for Ryan in this case) and his eldest brother is Emmer (short of Emmerson). Keeping with the bread theme, Emmer is actually a type of wheat also known as farro that grows in the mountainous regions of Europe and Asia.

\- _Tipsin_ , also known as Prairie Turnip or Indian Breadroot, was a popular wild plant that Native Americans foraged. To prepare it, they would peel it and then fry it up. The nutritional composition is similar to a potato but the taste and texture are different. If dried, the tubers can be stored indefinitely, making it a great pantry staple.

Many many thanks to two wonderful ladies, _**court81981**_ and _**titaniasfics (formerly ct522)**_ , who make up my beta team for this story, and _**loving-mellark**_ for pre-reading. Their support and comments kept me going through the writing process and a big thanks to those who read and reviewed the first chapter. It's always nerve-wracking when you post a new story and wait to see how it's received. So thank you for the wonderful feedback so far and support!

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts and thanks for taking a chance on my writing!

You can find me anytime over on tumblr: _**pookieh**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated 'M' for language and future sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

* * *

The next few days continue in pretty much the same fashion. Rising with the sun. Trekking through the woods to check the snare lines. Foraging to restock supplies. Then, evenings spent by the fire as we try to get a better grasp of each other's worlds. We run into a few hiccups along the way thanks to a couple of misunderstandings from our minor language barrier, but overall things go relatively smoothly.

Ever since the night I learned about the reaping, Katniss has given me quite a bit to think about. Although my commitment to my people is still my top priority, what used to be black and white when it came to my mission is now a muddled grey. My conscience is having a hard time walking the now blurry line between duty and morals. This must be why, during training, they insisted we refrain from interacting with the locals. It's easier to swallow the reality of what could happen when you're not friendly with a potential opposing side. Which means I'm no closer to coming up with a plan on what to do when the countdown on my communicuff runs out.

Although I may be failing at the 'reporting back' portion of my mission, considering communication with my ship is still out, I've been more than successful on the observation part. Living with a native has put me at quite an advantage, and it helps a lot that I can't seem to get enough of her people's culture. How they live, their customs, laws, beliefs. But I've started to notice a trend whenever I try to steer the conversation towards the location of her village or the possibility of meeting others from her herd: Avoidance.

I know her afflicted past with the elders is the main reason, but if she'd just point me in the general direction, it'd make the remainder of my mission so much easier. I know Katniss insists her herd is not hostile, but I need to be sure for myself, and for the sake of my own people. I could be there and back in a few days, well before the three-week deadline. But if there's one thing she's yet to learn about me, it's not to underestimate my determination. Sooner or later she'll give in, and until then, I just need to find the right motivation.

With my most basic needs of survival covered, I've been able to focus more on getting to know this planet than worrying about where I'll be laying my head each night. Unlike the simulated 24-hour day we have on the ship, I've determined that the solar day on this planet is closer to 28 hours. Oh, and the trees that all used to look the same? I'm able to distinguish over a dozen different varieties now based on the shapes of the leaves and color of the bark. And speaking of trees, there's also this one where if you're ever in need of a drink, all you have to do is drive a spike into the trunk and— _bam_! Instant drinking fountain.

When she asks me more about life aboard the ship, she's curious as to how we function as a society, seeing how my people are spread out amongst the thirteen ships. I start by explaining that the center of our government is based out of our mother ship, the Capitol. It houses the president and his council members, along with their families and extended families, other important figureheads, and not to mention the descendants of Earth's wealthiest and most powerful elite.

All the other ships vary when it comes to social class. My ancestors were in a time crunch to finish the ships before the Exodus, which resulted in a few of them not being as lavishly outfitted as the others. Those ships, Panem 9 to Panem 13, were left to house Earth's lower class, or "blue collar" citizens, as they used to be called. Because of that, there's not much interaction among the ships, each one pretty much keeping to itself, unless a major problem arises and specialists from another ship are needed to be brought in for whatever reason.

I've spent a lot of my free time thinking about it, though. How it's to the Capitol's advantage to keep us segregated. Much easier to manage a population when you have them divided yet dependent on one another. Sure, each ship is self-sustaining to some degree, but none would last long without the others.

Like how the crew aboard Panem 3 specializes in technology and engineering, and those on Panem 5 keep our solar panels and fusion reactors running. Panem 9, 10, and 11 are the reasons we have food on our plates since their bioengineers and scientists are experts in space farming. Panem 4 are water specialists, working closely with the agricultural ships and dealing with process and wastewater on all the others.

And it's a smart setup, really; how else could you keep a fleet of ships all together for so long without one going rogue? Take away a ship's steady food supply and see how long they last on their own.

Speaking of food, Katniss also has this extreme fascination with—of all things—our food. She questions me constantly about how we've been able to sustain ourselves for so long. Although I'm no expert (not being from one of the agricultural ships), I still know where my food comes from. She's especially fascinated by the symbiotic environment of our aquaponic gardens, how we're able to raise fish and grow food vertically at the same time, taking advantage of each valuable inch we have to work with. And I have to repeat myself a few times when I tell her about the stoves and ovens. I'm still convinced she thinks they're run by magic.

The more I learn about her people, though, the more I learn about _her_ in particular. Like how her head tilts to the left ever so slightly when she's thinking about something, and nibbles on her bottom lip when she concentrating. How the corner of her mouth twitches when she's frustrated, and how her lips practically disappear from pursing them so hard when she's _really_ fed up. But beneath that cool and stiff exterior that she wears so well, Katniss is a caretaker.

It's when she opens up to me more about her father that I start to see a different side of her. A softer, but by no means weaker, side of her. Just before the reaping ten years ago, he and his hunting party disappeared, never to return, leaving her to fill the role of protector and provider for her widowed mother and sister.

Now she's taken me under her wing. A complete stranger who she could have just left alone to die in the woods. I'm not too proud to admit that if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have survived a week out here on my own. But after spending just a few short days shadowing Katniss, I've become increasingly familiar with this place, garnering enough knowledge to boost my chances of surviving this planet if left to my own devices.

However, as the old saying back on Earth goes, the moment you think things are starting to go right, something is inevitably bound to go wrong.

According to my communicuff, it's been nine days since I landed, which means I'm almost halfway through the three-week waiting period. It's been a long day. I swipe my arm across my brow, the thought of taking my suit off a tempting one. I've spent most of the morning on the ground, on my hands and knees foraging for _tipsin_ and other medicinal herbs, including one that Katniss says will help with my stomach. It's still been having a little trouble adjusting to the local diet.

I've been put on berry duty for the afternoon and with my pack barely a quarter full, I'm about to throw in the towel and call it a day when I stumble across the mother lode of all bushes. It's covered in so many plump, bright red berries that the green leaves are barely visible. In no time, my pack is overflowing and the moment I'm about to head back to find Katniss, I spot her approaching out of the corner of my eye.

Beaming as I make my way towards her, I lift the pack over my head like a trophy. But she's not looking at me, rather somewhere off to the side, and she looks...confused? Scared? But that doesn't make any sense, so I continue on, trudging my way through the leaves and branches.

"Katniss! Look what I—"

"Peeta! No!"

Before her words can register, something whips around and hits me so hard, so squarely in the chest that it sends me flying back into a nearby tree trunk. Stunned, I sit there on my ass, trying to regain my wind. But then that's when the pain grabs hold of me like a vise, twisting up my leg and stealing the breath from my lungs for a second time.

My leg is on fire. Not literally, but _fucking hell_ I'm convinced this is what it'd feel like. The pain is so blinding I can't understand why I haven't blacked out yet.

The air is tainted with the unmistakable smell of blood and even though I'm already seated, I almost fall over at the sight of my leg. Lodged in the front of my thigh is a wooden spike, and as my nose has already identified, there's blood. Lots and lots of blood. So much blood that panic spirals through my body and straight to my head, awakening a part of me that until now I've been able to repress, and before I know it I'm sent hurtling face first into a flashback...

 _I'm twelve years old again, huddled in the air return vent of our apartment as my mother screams and rants, throwing everything that's not bolted down against the walls as she rides out one of her episodes. She's been skipping her pills again, so without them I know she's beyond rational._

 _With eyes closed and my face buried in my knees, I rock back and forth, over and over, chanting quietly to myself that it'll soon be over. That she'll eventually tire and crash on the bed and sleep for the rest of the day like she always does. But she doesn't. And this time I know I've been caught when the metal grate is wrenched from the vent opening and I squeeze my arms tighter, forming a shivering ball of limbs._

 _A hand clasps around my ankle, nails digging into my skin as I'm dragged out from my hiding place. I know I shouldn't struggle, shouldn't fight back, but I can't help it. I kick and scream and my arms flail, fingers desperate for something to cling to, but all I find is the cold reality of smooth metal. When she's got my feet out, I'm kicking out of control, knees slamming into the walls, shouting for her to let me go, let me go, let me go. But she won't listen, can't hear me. She won't let me go._

 _Her other hand wraps around my calf and that's when she starts tugging, inching me out further and further. But then something sharp catches my pants and there's a startling R-I-I-I-I-P as the fabric tears apart. I'm crying out, howling in pain as that sharp something breaks through my skin, saws into my flesh, and I feel like my leg is on fire. But how can it be on fire if it feels wet? So very, very wet? And everywhere I look there are stars falling, hundreds and hundreds of them until they suddenly stop, thrusting me into complete and utter darkness._

If I'd been thinking clearly that day, I'd have stopped playing tug-of-war with my leg over that damn jagged piece of metal. Maybe then the nerve endings in my calf wouldn't have been torn to shreds and the doctors wouldn't have had to amputate everything below my knee.

Shaking my head, I find myself laughing, not that there's anything remotely funny about this, but because there are tears already running down my cheeks and my leg hurts so damn much that my body can't make up its mind on what to do.

A hand wraps around my ankle, pulling my leg taut and I swear I'm about to lose it, but then a gentle and familiar voice somehow penetrates the chaos in my head. _Katniss_.

"Peeta, you need to hold still."

My eyes struggle to focus on her face in front of me but my head is pounding and everything around me is one massive blur. "I can't," I moan, my voice harsh and raw as my hands desperately search for something to grab hold of. "It hurts. It fucking hurts!"

"I know it hurts, but you must keep still so I can remove it." Her hand strokes my trembling face, pushing back the hair from my forehead. "I am going to pull it out on the count of three. Can you hold still for that long?"

It takes a few seconds to process what she's saying, but then, with my eyes shut tight, I unclench my jaw with an effort and give a sharp nod. A firm hand pushes down on my knee and I bite back the agony screaming through my veins as I brace myself.

"One...two...three!"

With a sickening crunch, the stake is out and I practically keel over from the instant relief of pressure. But I must be delirious because as I force my eyes open to stare blankly down at the hole in my leg, I bark out a laugh. "That'll leave a mark later."

"Stay still and hold this." She places my hand over a piece of cloth she's cut from her dress. It hurts like hell when she forces my hand down harder, but even with my limited experience with only basic first aid, I know I need to keep pressure on it to stop the bleeding.

Katniss gets to her feet, but I grab hold of her leg, clinging to it like a lifeline. "No! Don't leave me!" I beg, the desperation in my voice clear.

Kneeling back down, she brushes away the sweaty hairs that have fallen into my eyes again. "I am going to get water to clean the wound. I will not go far, and while I am gone, do not go to sleep. Do you understand?"

With a shaky nod, I pry my hand off her boot. She's gone in a flash, and my head falls back against the tree trunk, too heavy for my neck to support. Although it's a struggle to keep my eyelids from drooping, I stare up into the canopy of branches above me. I try my best to concentrate on the different shapes and colors of the leaves, making my mind work to identify what kind of trees surround me instead of focusing on the throbbing of my thigh.

True to her word, Katniss is back before I know it. I can't look when she peels away the bloodied cloth but the pulsing heat and pain is all I need to feel to know this isn't going to end well. "It's bad, isn't it?" I wheeze. "Just leave me here."

"You are not going to die," she says firmly as if berating a small child.

Her lack of sympathy laced with the pain makes my words come out clipped and angry. "How would _you_ know?"

She just frowns at me for a while, then thankfully, ignores me and my snarling comment as she begins to empty her water skin over my thigh. The cool rush of water has me moaning with relief, and it takes a good eight or nine trips to the stream and back until she's satisfied. Cutting another clean piece of cloth from her dress, she instructs me to hold it in place again. "I am almost done. I will be back."

This time when she returns, she's got a bunch of leaves and bark and some berries in hand. I can't look at my leg anymore, so I settle for her face instead. Brows narrowed and jaw locked in a determined line, she sets into chewing the bark and leaves while she grinds the berries between two stones. Mixing the chewed mush with the berries, she forms some sort of paste in her palm, then, motioning for me to remove my hand, packs it into the wound and surrounding area. If it wasn't for the instant relief upon contact, I'd be cringing at how unsanitary this has to be.

"That will do for now." Removing the belt from her waist, she wraps it tight around my thigh to keep the bandage in place. "Drink some water first," she says, lifting her water skin to my lips. "Then we must go."

I hesitate. I want my canteen, but it's all the way back at the cave and my parched mouth is dying for just a taste of the cool liquid on my tongue. _Aw, screw it._ This was bound to happen eventually. Tilting my head back, I let her pour the water down my throat. I don't think I've ever tasted anything so pure. With greedy fingers, I reach up to snatch the water skin out of her hands so I can drain it, but she's faster and pulls it away.

"Enough. I do not want to you get sick."

Even though I know she's right, I scowl. "Fine, help me up then." Taking hold of my outstretched hand, she pulls me upright. I can feel the color drain from my face the moment I put weight on my leg. "Katniss, wait!" Wincing, I hang onto her arm for dear life. "Just…just give me a minute."

"You can do this," she coaxes, propping me up on her shoulder. "Just think of our fire at home and a hot meal."

Interesting how when she refers to the cave as home— _our_ home—it does funny things to my insides. But it's more than enough of an incentive to get me moving, however, slow going it may be, as she practically drags me the entire way. I watch her covertly out of the corner of my eye, the lines of her face drawn taut and her frown determined. I lose count of how many times I tell her to just cut her losses and leave me behind, but each time she grunts out her refusal and we seem to pick up the pace. And when she somehow manages to push and shove my body up the rocks and into the cave, it's nothing short of a miracle. It could be worse though; she could have actually listened and left me out there to die.

Surrounded by the safety of the cave walls, I try to hobble my way over to my pack and sleeping bag, but Katniss catches hold of my arm and half-guides, half-carries me over to her bed of furs. "Rest," she commands.

Sinking down into the plush layers, I turn my head to rest my cheek against her pillow and my eyes fall shut. The smell of her scent, woods, and sweat and something else I can't quite put my finger on settles over me like a blanket. Familiar and comforting. And despite the pain still rippling up and down my leg, I find myself smiling.

I must doze off, because the next thing I know there's a crackling fire burning and Katniss is kneeling next to me, mixing together another poultice of chewed leaves and berries. She's removed my boots and suit, leaving me in just my shirt and undershorts. It's then I wonder if my pants are ruined beyond repair. Probably, but that's the least of my concerns.

My body still feels like it's on fire, but when she places a hand on my forehead and doesn't say anything, there's a pretty good chance I'm imagining it all. Shock has a funny way of messing with your senses, so I'm learning.

"You are lucky," she eventually says, dabbing a wet rag around the wound. "No bones are broken and it did not hit a major lifeline."

Glancing up at her determined face, I blink rapidly. "A major what?"

Pausing, she straightens out her arm, presenting me with the underside of her wrist. She points to the bluish veins that branch out just beneath her skin, and I swallow back thickly as I nod.

"Then why was there so much blood?" She doesn't answer at first and when I look up to her face again, it seems like she's desperately trying to hold back a smile. Confused and a little frustrated, I grit my teeth. "You find this funny? I almost lose my only good leg and you feel the need to laugh about it?"

"No, of course not. It's just that…"

"What?" I bark, lifting up onto my elbows so I can glare at her better. "Go on, spit it out."

"That was not your blood."

I pause. That's not what I was expecting to hear. "Come again?"

"Not all of it, but most was juice from the berries. They were crushed by the blow."

"But...but there's a fucking hole in my leg!" I bellow, but then feel a pang of immediate remorse when she winces.

Again confused, but mostly embarrassed this time, I'm not completely convinced by her diagnosis. Brushing her hand away, I pull back the bandage and inspect the wound more closely. I can't see much beyond the dark green mash of leaves she's got pressed into it, but I don't think I'm bleeding anymore. Faint lines have started to feather out from the edges of the wound, but the pain has reduced to a dull throb. Much more manageable than before. My back and head though are another story.

"How do you know for sure that I'm not bleeding internally somewhere, or that there isn't any nerve damage?"

"Before my mother fell ill and died, she was a healer," Katniss starts to explain, pressing a warm, wet cloth to my face. "She was one of the best in the village. I may not be the healer she was, but this is not the first time I have seen a wound like this."

Starting at my forehead, she works the damp cloth down my temples and cheeks with firm but gentle strokes. Then across my chin before tracing the column of my neck, across my collarbone and shoulders. Before I know it, I'm leaning into her touch, gazing up at her, my leg momentarily forgotten. I wonder if during these moments of weakness when my guard is down if she knows this effect she has on me. The effort it takes to hide how much I crave her touch. How much I want to reach out and touch her back.

Maybe it's because I'm suffering and in pain that she chooses to overlook my flip-flopping slew of emotions, but she's no longer hesitant with her smiles, gracing me with one that steals the very next breath from my lungs.

Somewhat placated by her confidence in her healing skills, I place the bandage back over the wound, allowing her to finish dressing it and securing it all with a knot on the side of my thigh. I consider asking her to get my pack, to check the contents of the first-aid kit to see if there's anything in there she can make use of. Then again, maybe it's not such a great idea to go ahead and mix her natural remedies with modern medicine. Who knows what the side effect could be.

My knee jerks violently when her fingers brush against the bottom of my foot. "Hey, that tickles!" The deadpan stare she throws my way takes a second to sink in. "Right," I mumble, realizing the point she just proved. "No nerve damage."

Lifting the furs back over my lap, she readjusts her position on the bed and sits cross-legged in front of me, her elbows balanced on her knees. There's a tempting view down the front of her dress and between her legs, but I force myself to keep my eyes glued to her face where she's staring back at me, thoughtful and hesitant at the same time.

With a shaky breath, I ask, "What is it?"

The corner of her mouth twitches, the whisper of an uncertain smile tugging at her lips. "I am at a loss for what to do with you," she says.

"Am I in trouble?" I ask, unable to stop the husky pitch of my voice.

"No, not yet at least."

I have no idea if she's talking about my leg or not, but what I do know is that if she doesn't move or cover herself soon, I'll legitimately be earning a reason to be in trouble with my desire to leer. I need to keep talking though, to keep my mind off my leg and…other things. Clearing my throat, I change the subject before I say something stupid. "So, what was that thing anyway?"

Thankfully, she scoots along the furs and leans back against the wall, her bare feet dangling over the edge. "A snare."

"And you didn't think to warn me about it?"

"You think this is my fault?" Exasperated, she crosses her arms over her chest and redirects her steeling gaze to the fire. "It was not one of mine! It was meant for a much larger beast."

I shut my eyes, pausing to gather my composure. "Hey, I'm sorry," I say, reaching over to tug on her sleeve. "I don't think any of this is your fault. You saved my life." She glances over then and I try to lighten the mood by adding in a sarcastic tone, "Again." That earns me a twitch of her lower lip, but I'll take it. It's a vast improvement over the scowling. Arching my lower back to get more comfortable, I let out a deep breath. "So I thought you said it was against the law to hunt the larger game?"

"As I am sure it is the same amongst your people," she starts, pushing up to her feet and moving towards her stockpile of food and storage containers. "Not everyone obeys the laws set out by the elders."

 _Huh_ , I shouldn't be surprised though. Within every society, no matter the race, sparks of rebellion are bound to show up somewhere.

I watch as she grinds more leaves and berries together, then adds it to a bowl of boiling water to make some sort of tea. "Here, drink this."

"What's it for?" Sitting up as much as I can, I stare into the dark liquid.

She taps a finger to her temple. "Your head."

A little wary, I bring the bowl up to my face and swirl the contents as I take a sniff. It's not offensive, so I take a tentative sip, expecting to gag from bitterness, but it's surprisingly sweet and so it's not a chore to drain every last drop in just a few gulps. Setting the bowl down, I sink back against the rolled up furs she's placed behind me.

Katniss continues to mill about the cave, putting things away and stirring the fire, but every so often she peeks over at me, an expectant look on her face. I'm about to ask what's wrong, but the unusual slackness of my jaw makes that a little difficult.

For a split second, the cave seems like it's spinning and although I'm laying down, it feels like I'm struggling to keep my balance. My mouth is suddenly dry and my head feels fuzzy. It's as if someone's thrown a wet blanket over me, and when I squint to see Katniss approaching, I know her lips are moving but I can't hear a damn thing. "W-what?" I say, leaning forward, but now the rest of my body feels like it's being pulled under too.

Time and space lose meaning as a fog settles over my brain, muddling my thoughts. My eyelids droop when her face comes into focus, but I manage to keep them open just long enough to see her lips form three words.

 _I am sorry._

* * *

When I finally come to, something is different.

The pounding at the back of my skull has dulled to a distant pulse and my eyelids no longer feel like they're glued shut. In fact, when I pry them open, I'm met with no resistance and I blink in rapid succession. I focus on the ceiling and it's a welcomed relief that my body is no longer trying to crawl out of my own skin. When I test my limps, sliding them back and forth against the soft hairs of the bed, something else dawns on me. That softness? It's everywhere, and I mean, _everywhere_.

I don't have to lift the blanket to know that underneath, I'm as naked as the day I was born. Readjusting the furs over my lap, I take a moment to gather my strength before attempting to sit up. But when I reach out to find some leverage, my palm comes in contact with something unexpected. Sitting next to me is Katniss, and splayed out over her bare knee just inches away from the hem of her dress, is my hand.

"Shit, sorry," I croak, as retracting my hand. My throat is scratchy and raw, even after swallowing a few times. It feels like I haven't used it in…wait a minute. Rubbing my fingers along my throat, I glance over at Katniss. "How long was I out?"

She's quiet, and if I'm not mistaken, looking a little miserable and a lot guilty. "Five days," she mutters.

"Five... _days_?" Meeting my gaze for only a second, that's all it takes to see the regret lingering in her eyes. Although my head's still a little hazy, I try my hardest to recall what the hell happened. "I remember my leg, you fixing it up, and then some sort of tea and then—wait, wait a minute...the tea...did you _drug_ me?"

"I am sorry." Katniss leans closer, lifting a tentative hand toward mine, but she must think better of it and drops it back into her lap. "Please, do not be angry with me. I had to. Your wound, if left untreated, it would have…" Without finishing, she pushes up onto her feet and fills a bowl with water from the cooking pot.

"It would have _what_?" I ask, but I have an eerie feeling I already know where she was going with that statement. When my question meets nothing but an unblinking stare, I try again. "Please, Katniss, I'm not mad at you. Just tell me what happened."

And I'm really not mad. Confused, yes, and drained, but not mad. How could I be, when this woman standing in front of me has just saved my life a _second_ time?

"Believe me," she starts solemnly, "if I did not put you to sleep, it would not have been pleasant."

Despite my nakedness, I tear back the blanket, making sure to keep some modesty by bunching it up over my privates. I'm not sure what I expect to find, but the relief of seeing my right leg still there, whole and intact, is enough to send the air rushing from my lungs. There's a fresh bandage covering the wound, and I hesitate before unwrapping the dressing to peek beneath it, looking up at Katniss for an explanation first.

"There was an infection," she states rather clinically, sitting down next to me with the bowl of water in one hand and a cloth in the other. "I had to burn away the ruined flesh and close the wound or else it would have spread until it overtook the rest of your leg."

Blowing out a breath, I steady my hand as I peel back the bandage. Okay. It's not as bad as I thought. I'm expecting a lot of blistering and raw, oozing flesh, but all I find is a red, puckered circle where there used to be a gaping hole in my thigh. It's a miracle, really, and now I'm staring back and forth between my leg and Katniss like she's just performed some sort of healing magic. "How?" is all I can manage to ask.

"Not magic," she says as if reading my thoughts, her lips curling into a tired smile. "But I am sorry for tricking you. How do you feel?"

"That's alright. Considering my other option, I understand why you did it." Grazing over the scar with a finger, I still can't believe how fast it's healing. I test the range of motion of my knee, bending it as much as I can, thrilled that there doesn't seem to be any residual damage. "It's a little sore, but bearable."

She hands me a water skin but the moment I bring it to my lips, I pause. Raising an eyebrow, I glance back at Katniss who shakes her head. "It is safe. I promise." To prove her point, she swipes it out of my hand and takes a swig, swishing the water in her mouth a few times before swallowing. She hands it back and I take a greedy gulp, and then another, before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "What was that anyway, in the tea?"

"Nightlock."

My eyes wide, they shoot up to hers. "Doesn't that cause...the sleeping death?"

With a shallow nod, she picks the cloth up and dips it into the water then dabs it along my forehead and down my temples. "The tea was very weak," she says, working her way along my jaw and towards my neck. "It was just enough to make you sleep. Knowing what had to be done, I could not bear to see you in more pain." After wringing out the cloth, she dips it back into the water and sets to work on my shoulders, soothing the stiff muscles along the length of each arm then back up again with long, firm strokes. There's a certain familiarity with her movements as if she's done this before, but seeing how I've been dead to the world for almost a week and yet I don't smell as offensive as I should, she probably has. I shudder when she reaches my chest, pausing for a fraction of a second longer when she runs the cloth over my stomach. I grab hold of her hand, stilling her movements when she tries to move lower towards my belly button, but she reprimands me with a click of her tongue. "Be still," she orders.

Sucking in a breath, I comply. But soon the gentle strokes along my rib cage start to take on a different feel, no longer timid and innocent like they were at the start, but possessive almost, like she's trying to claim something. Does that even make sense? Maybe whatever she's been giving me is still leaving my system and messing with my thoughts. But my head isn't the only thing she's messing with, a certain part of my body seems to agree with my first theory and stirs to life.

With as much discretion as I can possibly manage with her sitting right in front of me, I shift the blankets to cover my lap completely in a desperate attempt to adjust my now half-hard cock. If she notices, she doesn't let on, but I have to draw the line when she tries to pull back the blanket again.

Capturing her wrist in a firm but gentle hold, I pluck the washcloth from her. "Thank you, Katniss, really. But I think I can handle the rest."

She stares back at me, mouth open like she wants to say something, and maybe it's my drugged up mind playing tricks on me again, but I swear a flicker of disappointment crosses her face. Then with a scowl and a huff, she flicks my hand away and stomps off towards the fire where she parks herself on the ground, back to me as she busies herself with something I can't quite see.

 _Okay_ , what the hell was that? And am I mistaken or did the temperature in here drop like five degrees? Must have, considering the cold shoulder I've just been given now looks pretty damn icy.

"Katniss?" Nothing, not a word or even a twitch of recognition. "Can you come back here please?" I ask, for some reason anxious to make things right even though I haven't the slightest clue as to what I've done wrong. Was it something I said? Does she think I'm still mad for knocking me out? "I swear I'm not mad," I add, just in case, but I'm only met with more silence. Mentally retracing my steps, I can't seem to figure out what I did to piss her off.

I take a long, steadying breath, the silence between us stretching out for minutes. But just when I'm about to give in and let her stew in her thoughts, she mumbles something. "What was that?" I ask.

Inclining her head over her shoulder, she speaks a little louder this time. "What does it matter? You no longer need me."

Alright, now I really have no idea where any of this is coming from or what she's even talking about. Not need her? Is she joking? If it wasn't for her, I'd have died two times already. And I wish she'd turn around; talking to a stiff back is going to get a little old fast.

"Why would you say that?" I frown, but of course, she doesn't see it and neither does she answer. Running a hand through my hair, I let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course I need you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

She mutters something again that I don't quite catch, but I know sarcasm when I hear it. Why won't she just tell me what I did wrong? Was it because I didn't let her finish washing me? Because, hell, if she's really that eager it's not like it'd be a hardship to endure—but then it hits me. If I want to get her talking, I'm going about this all the wrong way.

Pushing up onto an elbow, I make a point of groaning just a little too loud. "Okay, then, if you don't think I need you anymore, then I guess you're right. I'll just help myself up and find my clothes and then I'll be on my way—"

Katniss whips around, pinning me with a cutting glare. "Do _not_ move."

The corner of my mouth twitches, but I school my features before she catches the smirk I'm desperately holding back. Keeping my eyes locked with hers, I pat the blankets around me as though I'm actually in search of my clothes. This, of course, gets me the exact reaction I'm looking for.

Casting aside the arrow she was apparently working on, she stalks towards me with fire in her eyes. "You will stay where you are or I will sit on you to keep you there."

After a threat like that, there's no holding back my smile anymore, and I just can't seem to help myself either. "Is that a promise?" That takes her off guard and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "Now, are you going to sit back down and tell me what this is really all about?"

With a sigh, Katniss settles back down beside me, tucking her legs beneath her. "It is not you I am mad at. It is me. It is my fault you were injured. I could not protect you and because of that, I almost lost…" Looking away, she's unable to finish that thought.

 _Ah_ , now I get it. This isn't about me. Well, not exactly.

I finally take a good look at her face, a really good look. The dark patches under her eyes. The disheveled braid. The streak of grime across her left cheek. All signs that I'm not the only one who's gone through hell over the past few days. She's exhausted.

"Katniss?" I ask, gently brushing the stray hairs from her face. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I have not slept much," she admits. Then, heaving a heavy sigh, she drops her head into her hands. "It was wrong of me to lose my temper. I did not want to rest until your fever broke, but it took much longer than I hoped. I did not want to leave the cave either, only long enough to get water and check the snares once, and to dispose of the…" She trails off again and even I can fill in the blanks.

Hell, I can't bring myself to look at her, knowing that she's had to deal with my other less than appealing, um, involuntary bodily processes while I was unconscious. The woman deserves a fucking medal for all she's done for me and I wouldn't even know where to start paying her back. A measly "thank you" won't cut it.

"When you did not wake after the third day," she whispers, her voice soft and raw, "I feared you would not wake at all. That I had given you too much nightlock and that I'd—" She breaks off with a strangled gasp.

No one has ever cried over my wellbeing before, not even my own mother, who could barely stand to see me strapped to a recovery bed in sick bay for six weeks after the "accident". Or when she found out I'd been selected for the draft. Not a single damn tear was shed on my account. But there's no mistaking the wetness welling up in Katniss's eyes, and I feel an unwarranted mix of guilt and elation knowing that I'm the reason for her tears.

"Hey, it's alright." Ever so slowly, I trickle my fingers down her arm before taking her hand in mine and squeezing it gently. But I don't stop there because it breaks my heart seeing her beautiful face so guilt-ridden. I pull her to me, desperate to just hold her in my arms, but I don't dare let go when she sprawls across my chest, burying her face into my neck. "I'm fine now, really," I say, although now I'm not quite sure who I'm trying to convince, her or me.

I know I'm walking a very thin line of control the moment her lips move against my heated skin to speak. "I had forgotten what it was like."

Swallowing thickly, I struggle to find my voice. "Forgotten what was like?"

Her head tilts up, eyes finding mine. "To care for someone."

When her gaze drops to my mouth for just a second, I can't help but moisten my own. And now I'm staring at hers, I know I am, focusing a little too hard on the thin space between her slightly parted lips. Tearing my eyes away, I distract myself by reaching up to trace her hairline with my fingers, nudging a few stray hairs away from her face.

"Peeta," she whispers. "I am tired of being alone."

As I stare into her tortured face, I find myself at a loss for words. Am I reading too much into this? No one's ever needed comfort from me before, so I'm not sure what to make of what's happening. The rush of emotion, though, when she begins to map my face, trailing her fingertips over my eyebrows and down my cheeks, has me leaning into her touch, my skin desperate for the physical contact I've been craving for most of my life. Her thumb hovers over my bottom lip and the next thing I know, she's leaning forward, her breath fanning over my face as her mouth descends towards mine.

I'm too stunned at first to move, unable to process what's about to happen, or rather if this really is about to happen. Our lips have barely touched when she releases a breathy sigh and I can't help from echoing back the same sentiment. How long have I fought myself over this—shoving back the instant attraction I've felt since the moment I first laid eyes on her?

What starts out as a gentle, probing caress shifts effortlessly into an exploration of taste and texture, a teasing inquiry that causes electricity to course up and down my spine and my fingers to curl into her shoulders. This better not be some sort of fever dream, cause if it is I sure as hell hope I never wake up.

Once again I find I'm at odds with myself, fighting back the urge to tangle my fingers through her hair, pull her fully on top of me and say _fuck it_ to my fading self-control. There's no ignoring my erection that's trapped between our stomachs, or how one of my hands has drifted from her shoulder to the small of her back. But the moment her head tilts to test out a new angle, her knee shifts too, bumping up against my thigh. The stab of pain splashes over me like a bucket of cold water, a sobering validation of what this really is.

And what it's _not_.

For her, it's just an outlet. An expression of relief that I didn't die on her watch and that she doesn't have to live out the rest of her days with the guilt of accidentally killing me. For me, well, it's an opportunity to quench this inappropriate hunger I've been struggling to suppress, to give in to these urges that cause my heart to beat just a little bit faster whenever she's near.

So it's because of our differing motives that I reluctantly pull away before she goes and starts something she'll probably regret. But not before pressing my lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. She hovers there a while longer, eyes still closed as she presses her lips together like she's tasting them...and _fuck_ if I don't get a little bit harder from the sight, even after everything my body's just been through. I want to kiss her again, damn it, but I content myself with rubbing my thumb along her dirt-streaked cheek.

When her eyes eventually open, I'm a little worried at what I'll find. Anger? Embarrassment? Regret?

Fortunately, I find none of these, but the tight smile she gives me as she reaches up to feel my forehead isn't exactly convincing. Despite the regret clenching my gut, I gather my tattered self-control and give her a pitiful, barely-there smile.

"Go to sleep," I whisper. "I'll wake you if I need anything." I see the reluctance in her eyes, as though if she closes her eyes for just a second, I'll disappear. "Katniss, you can't stay up forever."

Nodding, she finally gives in and eases herself down next to me, and to my surprise, curls into my side to rest her head on my shoulder. I hesitate for just a moment, mindful of her antlers which surprisingly enough aren't too much in the way. But having her warm body pressed up against mine feels all too good, so I allow myself to wrap an arm around her waist, fisting my hand to avoid placing it in dangerous territory. My skin tingles where our bodies touch, so to keep my mind from wandering as the pain in my leg slowly dissipates, I watch the moon and the stars through a crack in the rocks above the fire pit.

It doesn't take long for her breathing to even out and once I'm certain she's asleep, I tilt my head to take in her dozing features. She looks younger, innocent, in spite of the hardships she's had to face for someone her age. And I'm only tormenting myself when I brush my lips against her forehead, lingering just long enough to convince myself that this is the last time I'll give in. After this, I'm back on my best behavior.

But no more than five minutes later she whimpers in her sleep, the tips of her antlers digging into my skin as she twists her head and burrows further into my side. It's a bittersweet reminder of just how different we are, but then her lips move against my bare chest as she mutters something. So much for good intentions. Stifling a groan, I unfurl my fingers so I can trace my thumb back and forth along the curve from her waist to her hip. Eventually, her mumblings die down and her body goes soft against mine, but that doesn't stop my ministrations.

I should be worrying about the uncertainty of what's to become of me, my people, and this planet, but all I can seem to think about is how am I going to survive this woman?

Blowing out a heavy breath, I locate the brightest star in the sky and whisper, "I'm tired of being alone, too."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Yeah…I'll just leave you all with that :) Fun fact while researching this chapter:

\- While researching what life would be like on a spaceship, I came across some pretty interesting theories, mostly about how subsequent generations would be able to remain self-sufficient with limited resources. There's a wide range of estimates on how many people would need to make it to colonize a new planet, but some seem to think 40,000 is a safe guess for the estimated five-generation trip to the nearest possible habitual planet. This might seem like a lot but apparently, it would account for increased inbreeding, depressed genetic diversity, and at least one severe population catastrophe.

Big thanks to my beta team, _**court81981**_ and _**titaniasfics**_ , who have been my supportive companions during the lonely writing of this story, and to _**loving-mellark**_ for pre-reading and cheering me on when motivation was dwindling. Many thanks to those who have read and reviewed the first two chapters. I value your feedback and hearing your thoughts makes writing worthwhile!

As always, you can find me over on tumblr: _**pookieh**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated "M" for language for future sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

* * *

Three days. I sit on my ass for _three days_. Three whole days of playing the good patient, allowing Katniss to nurse me back to health, while testing my patience as she tends to my leg, washes my body (only the upper half and my legs), and shoves spoonful after spoonful of stew and mushed-up fruit down my throat. To my disappointment, for all my good behavior, Katniss doesn't reward me even once with another kiss.

Although, she has threatened to pin me down and sit on me a few more times. But since I promised myself I'd be back on my best behavior, I bite my tongue each time because who am I kidding—having her on me in any way would be more of a reward than a punishment. It's for the best, though, cooling things off between us. Not that there was really anything going on between us.

 _Ugh_. That's another thing I've been doing these past few days. Thinking. A lot of thinking. Or rather obsessing. That damn kiss has been wreaking havoc on my ability to think rationally, and I've been second guessing myself a hundred times over.

The annoyingly optimistic part of me is trying to convince the rest of me of the possibility that there was more to that kiss than I originally thought. That Katniss might actually have feelings for me that stem from something other than pity or guilt. But even if she did harbor a genuine interest in me, it'd never work out. How could it? _Oh, sweetheart, remember that time my entire race descended onto your planet and set forth in enslaving your people for the benefit of mine so they could take over? Yeah, me too, good times._ Yeah right, that's not exactly something you can just sweep under the table and forget about.

It also doesn't help that these past three nights she's slept curled up next to me, albeit safely wrapped up in my sleeping bag upon my insistence.

But then again, there's still a chance that I'm obsessing over nothing. No one could be coming. Strange how that doesn't seem to bother me in the slightest anymore. Either way, being linked to me will earn Katniss no favors, not from my people or from hers. Maybe in another life, or in another world, things between us could be different, but that's just wishful thinking. A wish for the impossible.

These are the thoughts that plague me every minute of the day, which also happens to be the same ones that keep me tossing and turning for most of the night. One thing has become clear: if help does arrive, I'll be expected to check-in, as per protocol. They'll fly me back up to the Capitol for a debriefing with President Snow and his council, where I'll be treated to a lavish meal and even receive a pat on the back from the man himself for all my troubles. Then, after they pick my brain for all that they can, I'll be expected to lead the first expedition back to the surface to meet the local inhabitants. There's this sick feeling in my gut, though, that if I don't have a location to give them, I won't be useful to them anymore, which can only mean one thing: I'll never set foot on DIST-12 again.

So I've come to a decision, even if it is a shitty one, because the more time I spend with Katniss, the less I want to lose her. But I can't be here when the countdown ends, which means I really need to leave. Problem is, I haven't figured out how to yet.

I am eventually allowed out of the cave on Day 18, under the supervision of my chaperone of course, but Katniss proves to be more than useful when she prevents me from tumbling down the rock face, thanks to the memory loss of my stiff muscles and joints. It takes almost twice as long to reach the stream because my feet seem to catch on every tree root and rock in my path. But when we eventually reach the clearing, just the sound of the rippling water has me groaning in anticipation.

For fear of tripping over my own feet, I allow Katniss to guide me down the slight incline, trying hard not to lean too much on her as I limp along the grass. When she offers to help me undress I roll my eyes.

"There is no need to be shy." Katniss's throaty laugh is rough and gravelly and unfortunately for me, downright sexy.

It's become a running joke between us, my objection to being naked around her. And believe me, it's not because I'm shy. It's because I'm still damn _human_. How am I supposed to keep things casual between us if I'm walking around with my cock out as if it's a normal thing?

She thinks I'm being juvenile because you know, as part of being my personal bed nurse during recovery, she's been privy to every aspect of the job. And I mean _every_ aspect, which still makes me cringe.

Today I ignore the teasing, and after toeing off my boots and shedding my jacket and grubby undershirt, I focus on working my pants over my wound. I'm still amazed at how good it looks (not that the gnarly scar is at all pretty). I have a much easier time undressing compared to this morning when I almost toppled ass first into the fire pit. Shows me for shrugging off help. I couldn't help but smile, though, when I noticed that the hole left by the spike was patched with a piece of hide that I'm pretty sure is from one of Katniss's dresses.

Glancing over my shoulder, I check to see if I've still got an audience before shucking my underwear. A part of me is a little disappointed to find that she's got her back to me, but the logical part of me says it's about time we quit playing these little games.

Whether I like it or not, everything will change in four days. Either I'll permanently become DIST-12's one and only human resident, or this planet is going to get a little too crowded. But I'm not in the mood for another mental guilt trip and my privates are covered in way too much sweat and grime to care about much else. Swiping a hand down my face, I kick my last piece of clothing off to the side, but not before grimacing at how filthy it looks.

It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to wade into the water, but once the coolness envelopes me like a second skin, I sink in down to my waist with a relieved groan. I anchor myself with my hands to allow my legs to float and bob with the lazy current, relishing the feel of weightlessness that I realized until now I've actually kind of missed.

We're both quiet for a long while, but at some point, I'm pretty sure I hear the rustling of movement behind me. My suspicions are confirmed when I spot Katniss a little ways further downstream, scrubbing my underclothes against a rock.

"So, I was thinking," I start, lowering myself deeper until the gentle waves are lapping at my chin. "Don't you think it's about time I met the rest of your herd?"

As expected, my words hang in the air, unanswered. Then without looking up, Katniss pauses and frowns, then shakes her head.

"You are too weak. It is over a day's travel to my village and the journey is not an easy one." She dunks my clothes back into the water as if she too is washing herself of this conversation. "Perhaps tonight you could teach me more about how your ancestors used wheels to grind their grain?"

Again with the diversion tactics, and now I'm the one frowning. "Yeah sure, if you like. But maybe when I'm feeling better tomorrow, you could draw me a map or something?" Now she's concentrating a little too hard on wringing out my clothes, but there's no missing her annoyance at my suggestion.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, she finally relents. "When you are better, we will discuss it."

The finality of her tone grates on my nerves, and rubbing my forehead, I try to find some patience as I fight back a smartass remark. We'll discuss this alright, and when we do? I'm not giving in so easily. I get that there's bad blood between her and the elders, but all I'm asking for is her to point me in the right direction, and then I can figure the rest out on my own. It's probably for the best to keep her out of this as much as possible anyway.

Gritting my teeth, I focus on scrubbing every inch of my body with handfuls of gritty sand until my skin feels clean and raw. When I'm just about done, I glance over to find Katniss staring off into the woods, lost in thought. Although I know it's pointless, I try my luck one last time.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" I venture before splashing some water onto my face.

With a shake of her head, she purses her lips. "Why do you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you change the subject every time I bring up your village?" Either she doesn't hear me or she's blatantly choosing to ignore me. I'm not a gambling man, but all my credits would be on the latter. "Look, I just want to get a better sense of what my people should expect if they do come."

Her lip is caught between her teeth as she stretches my underclothes out on a large rock to dry. When finally satisfied, she wipes her hands off with the front of her dress then stands. "Have I not told you all that you wish to know?"

"Yes, you have, and thank you for being so forthcoming with all my questions. But I think it'd be in everyone's best interest if I'm the first to make contact. You know, ease them into the idea of having potential new neighbors." She seems to mull over my excuse but remains frustratingly quiet. "All I want to do is give your people a heads up so they don't feel threatened or afraid if a ship lands here in a few days' time."

Indifference swiftly turns to suspicion as her eyes narrow. "Should they be afraid?"

 _Yes_ , I want to scream, but I clamp my mouth shut, lest I say something I'll regret.

During training, most of our time was dedicated to learning the basic skills of survival, such as starting a fire, building shelter, tying knots, and even camouflage. For two days we focused on fighting and defensive techniques, including an entire afternoon on hand-to-hand combat, which surprisingly enough, I was actually good at despite my leg.

There was also a short lecture on how the information we gather will be vital in tailoring a suitable plan to engage the local inhabitants in peaceful negotiations to share their planet. But peaceful? Who were they kidding? When the question was raised on why they don't just send us in better armed with guns or at least a phaser, our instructor laughed. The answer? _The element of surprise_. What good is it showing the enemy your entire hand right at the start? Although no one ever came right out and said it, that's how we were trained to view these people: as the enemy. Faceless and nameless beings who are the only barrier standing in the way of us getting off those damn forsaken ships.

But no one trained me for the situation I'm currently in. There was nothing in the handbook about how to deal with the oppressive weight of guilt, let alone falling for one of the locals. Considering the hand I've been dealt, there are a few things I'm fairly certain of. The woman who saved my life not once but twice is not faceless or nameless. She is not a primitive or savage creature absent of morals or respect for life. However different she may look on the outside, this woman is _not_ my enemy.

Which is all the more reason why I regret my next words the instant they leave my mouth. "No, of course not."

We stare at each other for a beat too long, and there's no missing the flicker of doubt in her eyes when she purses her lips. Rightfully so, she thinks I'm holding something back, but she is too, so we're both guilty for harboring hidden agendas, but neither one of us wants to be the first to cave and admit it.

She's the first to look away, rising to her feet as she brushes the dirt and grass from her dress. But against my better judgment, I can't seem to bite my tongue and let this go. "You know, you can't stop me from leaving," I taunt.

As always, Katniss is quick to react, spinning around to throw me a menacing look. "You said you'd—" But then she cuts herself off and shakes her head. "I would not let you."

I bark out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Silly me, to think that all this time that I was an honored guest, not your prisoner."

Her face pales at my verbal slap in the face, but she recovers her composure quickly, her gaze steady and fixed on mine. "You have never been my prisoner. You are free to leave if that is your wish."

Regret settles in rapidly as I survey the pain in her eyes. _Shit_. This is what I get for being an asshole and pushing her. I sit up more fully, running a wet hand through my hair. "Katniss, I'm so—"

"Your clothes will take some time to dry," she cuts in, bending over to retrieve her bow and slinging her quiver over her shoulder. "I am going to check the snares."

As soon as she disappears into the trees, I let out a frustrated grunt and dunk my head into the water. What the hell is wrong with me? When I finish washing my hair, I pull myself onto the grassy bank and flop down onto my back, closing my eyes in a futile effort to block out the rest of the universe. _Everything fucking sucks_.

She must not be completely pissed off because a little over an hour later she comes back for me. With no more than a frown of acknowledgment, she turns back to the woods, and that's my cue it's time to head back to the cave. She doesn't offer me any help, but that too is probably for the best. If I'm going to leave, I need to be able to do this on my own.

It's a quiet hike back and an even quieter afternoon where we both avoid any unnecessary interaction. I've moved my belongings back to my original spot by the fire, not because she's evicted me from her bed or anything; it just feels weird being there with all the tension between us right now.

Dinner comes and goes, and I've spent the whole time stewing in my own thoughts, as well as sorting out my plan for tomorrow. I'll stick to the stream and follow it east, and with the help of the HOLO, stay hidden in the cover of the woods as much as possible. Then hopefully I'll be able to climb up a tree for the night, a trick Katniss mentioned to keep from drawing too much attention from the wildlife.

But first things first, I don't want to leave with things the way they are between us, which means I'll have to suck it up and be the less stubborn one.

I've been watching her from across the fire as she plucks feathers out of the carcass of a bird she caught this morning. A _groosling_ she called it when I made an effort in small talk. Face tense and feathers floating around her head and antlers like a halo, she makes for quite the sight.

"I'd like to show you something," I say, bracing myself for a snapped retort, but it doesn't come. Instead, she pauses, probably taken off guard by the calmness of my voice and puts aside the bird. I pat the spot next to me on the sleeping bag and her jaw tightens, but then she gives in and crawls over to join me.

Curious, she watches as I reach for my pack and dig out my info tab. I've still yet to show her this, or the HOLO, but it's about time I stop delaying the inevitable. Thankfully the screen comes to life with a swipe of my finger, but Katniss gasps and pulls away.

"Don't be scared," I say, waving her back closer. "It won't hurt you. It's a device we use to store information such as words and pictures."

"Pictures?"

With a reassuring smile, I pull her closer to my side. "Here, I'll show you." I tap an icon in the corner of the screen and it fills with a photo of my family. It's from four years ago, but it's the most recent one I have with all of us in it.

"Is that your family?" she asks, bending in closer to inspect the screen.

For a moment I'm completely distracted by her nearness, but then I lean back a little to give her more space. "Yep, that's all of us."

"You and your brothers take after your father." Smiling, I hand her the info tab but she's hesitant to take it. When she finally does, she brings it up closer to her face. "You have your mother's eyes, but unlike you, she does not look happy."

"Nope, she's generally not. Having to raise three rowdy boys like us, it's no wonder my mother went crazy." I let out a chuckle, but the truth is far from funny.

I've never told anyone what really happened to my leg, not even my own father. To this very day, I've kept my mother's secret, partly to protect the rest of my family but also because it'd be her death sentence if I didn't. If there's one thing my people don't tolerate, it's space sickness. The only reason she was able to hide it from everyone, including my father, was because she'd bribed one of the nurses to sneak her pills to control the symptoms. On our ship, nothing comes without a price, so it wasn't until I found her and that nurse tangled in my parents' bedsheets one day that I learned what exactly she'd been bribing him with the entire time. She swore that if I were to ever spill a word about it to anyone, there would be consequences. And after what happened with my leg, it was clear she needed those pills more than I needed to share the truth.

"Are there others?"

"Hmm?" I say, reaching out but then hesitating for a second before absently brushing away an eyelash that's fallen onto her cheek. "Pictures? Sure, just swipe to the left." She arches an eyebrow, so I reach over to show her, then settle back on my sleeping bag and link my fingers behind my head.

"Is this your ship?"

I don't have to look to see which photo she's asking about. "Yep."

"Everything is grey and white," she states, taking her time as she swipes through the rest. "There is no green or brown or blue. Where is all the color?"

Chuckling, I reach over and tap the screen a few times. "There you go."

She's speechless, her lips parted in awe, or at least that's what I think it's from. I watch her face from the corner of my eye, her wide eyes darting around the screen, unable to focus on one spot for too long. A few minutes later she finally finds her voice and asks, "Did you make this?" I answer with a nod.

I'll never forget the first time I witnessed a dying star with my own eyes. The glowing haze of aqua and purple surrounding a brilliant red and orange core. Aesthetic beauty aside, there's something poetic about it, knowing that with the death of something so powerful comes new life. The old star slowly shedding its outer layers, returning interstellar material back into the void to one-day birth new stars. And what a bittersweet moment it was, watching from the viewport of the observatory deck when I was eight years old, considering that dying star was Earth's sun.

"It's called a planetary nebula," I explain, rolling onto my side to watch her profile in the firelight. "That's what it looks like when a star like your sun begins to die."

Turning towards me, she tilts her head. "My sun? What is that?"

"The bright circle that crosses the sky every day?" I reach out and pluck a feather from her hair. "Only the most important source of energy for life on this planet."

"Oh, you mean _Phaethon_ , the brother of the Great Spirit."

"Sure," I say with a shrug, smiling at the no-nonsense tone of her voice. There are so many things I want to share with her, things I know would blow her mind and turn the world she thinks she knows upside down. I could spend a lifetime teaching her all the things we humans have learned. But there's the catch: Time is not on our side. It has never been.

"Do you have more?" she asks, saving my thoughts from taking me down a depressing path.

"Drawings?" Katniss bobs her head. "A few, but I had to leave most of them back on the ship."

She swipes to the next one, a cat's eye nebula that I spent countless hours on, trying to perfect the complex sinewy arcs of the blue and green outer shell. I'm still not completely happy with how it turned out, but oh well, not like it matters anyway. That doesn't stop the heat flooding my cheeks when Katniss turns her attention back to me.

"They aren't as good as the ones I've done on paper," I find myself saying, a defensive edge tinging my voice. I've never shared my paintings with anyone before, this vulnerable feeling new and slightly intimidating, so I feel the need to throw in some sort of disclaimer in case she thinks they're garbage. "I find digital media much harder to work with." The slight tilt of her head tells me she has no idea what I'm talking about, but before I can explain, she shrugs.

"I have never seen anything so beautiful."

There's a sincerity behind her words, one that forces my breath to catch. It's the same sincerity I've picked up on a handful of times before during our talks, and curiously enough, whenever she's steered the conversation towards learning more about me. Trivial yet intimate details about myself, such as my favorite color and food and the happiest memory from my childhood. Insignificant bits of information that no one has ever bothered to inquire about before.

And as I stare at the way the firelight dances across her face, illuminating the hard lines and soft edges of her features, I can't help but agree with her statement. _Neither have I._

A log on the fire crackles and pops as it gives way to the weight of the others around it, crumbling into a pile of a hundred tiny, glowing embers. It's that moment I realize that something inside me too is starting to crack and crumble, and I have a gut-wrenching feeling that my life will never be the same if it does.

I clear my throat. "Thank you, I'm glad someone thinks so."

"You have much talent. Has no one told you this before?"

"Nope, I've never shown my drawings to anyone before."

Her eyes find mine and we stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. Then she sets down the info tab, takes hold of my hand, and pulls us both to our feet. She starts into her usual bedtime routine of tidying up the cave, securing the screen at the entrance, and then, to my surprise, picks up my sleeping bag and arranges it over her bed of furs.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I shuck my jacket and pants, ignoring the slight twinge of pain from my wound, and take my spot on the bed. And like the nights before, she crawls into the sleeping bag next to me, rearranging my arm to use as a pillow as she burrows into my side. Although neither of us utters a word, I get the sense that things between us are fine…for now. So knowing that tonight may be the last time I ever hold Katniss, I close my eyes and pull her close, memorizing the feel of her in my arms as I drift off to sleep.

* * *

With only two days left, the chance of someone coming for me is becoming more and more of a possibility. Knowing that I've survived for this long, it's probably put DIST-12 higher up on the priority list of planets to investigate further. Unless none of the other tributes survived, making this my people's only option.

I feel more than a little guilty that morning when Katniss is about to leave and I ask if she needs help with the snares or collecting firewood. Of course, she says no, and it's because I knew she'd turn me down that I even asked in the first place. It's all just a ruse so I can spend the morning preparing my pack and trying to piece together a more concrete plan for when I finally find her village. I intentionally leave out my sleeping bag, seeing as how I don't want Katniss suspicious of my intentions when she returns.

Blowing out a long breath, I survey the cave, a twinge of doubt washing over me as my eyes settle on the rumpled furs that make up her bed. I remind myself over and over again that this is for the best, that if I really do care about Katniss, it's the logical thing to do. But I'm still struggling to convince myself a few hours later when Katniss returns, a braided rope of vines strung full of fish slung over her shoulder. She was gone longer than usual, which I hate to admit had me worrying more than I'd like, but it's not my place to inquire after her whereabouts. So I keep my mouth shut and try my hardest to keep from looking guilty.

As though she senses something's up, Katniss shoots me a long, thoughtful look, but then without a word, tosses her bow and quiver of arrows onto the floor and busies herself with tending to her haul. The thought had crossed my mind to leave while she was gone, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. She deserves better than a cowardly departure, one including a heartfelt thank you and proper good-bye. But not until I try one last time to get the information I'm looking for.

I leave her be as Katniss makes a meal out of the small, bony fish she caught from the stream, and I use up the last of the dehydrated rations, a simulated kind of potato mush that I make palatable by adding in some dried herbs. I've got almost the entire box of protein bars still in my pack, and now that I'm somewhat of a competent forager, I should be able to keep myself contently fed for at least a few days.

We're quiet during our late lunch, both lost in our own thoughts as we stare into the fire. I don't taste a thing as I make a weak effort of finishing my meal, unintentionally dragging out the inevitable as my body operates on autopilot. I chew, swallow, repeat. After swallowing my last bite, I scrape the bones into the fire before setting down my bowl and leveling Katniss with a serious look.

"We need to talk."

As if anticipating this moment, she blows out a long breath and does the same, setting her food aside and crossing her arms over her chest. "Then talk."

It's then my nerves decide to get the better of me, so I get to my feet and begin pacing back and forth in front of the fire in hopes of releasing some of my pent-up anxiety. "Look, I know there's something you're not telling me, and it's why you won't tell me where your herd is. And I get it, you're entitled to your secrets and I'm the last person you owe anything to, but I just wish I understood _why_ you can't tell me. Are you scared of retaliation? That they'd think you sold them out? Because if you are, I swear I'd never tell anyone you helped me. Hell, I'll pretend I never even _met_ you."

Katniss frowns and by the tick of her jaw I sense I'm already fighting a losing battle. But then her features soften and she tosses the rest of her food into the fire. "Months ago, I had a dream," she says, but when she doesn't elaborate, I stop my pacing and glance over at her.

"Okay." I haven't the slightest idea of where she's going with this, but I'll let it play out. "And? What was this dream about?"

"I was hunting, and although the woods were flush with green and teeming with life, my pack was empty. For some reason, none of my arrows would hit their mark, so I was ready to return home. However, my water skin was empty too, so I stopped at the stream to refill it, and that is when I saw him." Katniss pauses, pulling her legs to her chest so she can prop her chin on her knees.

"Him?"

"A young _dyr_ , no more than a yearling based on his size. His crown was just beginning to grow in, still small and coated in _veluet_. Instead of running for cover, our eyes locked and he stared back at me from across the water as if he had never seen my kind before. Innocent and beautiful, but unaware that with just one shot I could silence his life forever.

"I set down my bow and arrow, slowly so not to startle him, and with an outstretched hand, I motioned for him to come to me. He hesitated for only a moment, then dipped his head before taking a step towards me. But the moment his hoof sunk into the water, there was movement behind me. When I tried to reach for my weapons, they were gone. Before I could shout out a warning, it was over. An arrow sunk into his neck and one in his chest. I was frozen in place as I watched him try to run but then he stumbled as he struggled to gain his footing. But all I could do was stand there, unable to help him as the life drained from his eyes and he finally fell into the stream. The last thing I remember before waking was the pang of guilt that filled my heart as I watched the water turn into a river of red. Guilt for not protecting such a harmless creature."

Well, that…was not what I was expecting. The silence that follows as Katniss continues to gaze into the fire, as though she's still stuck in her dream, stretches from seconds to minutes. I'm no expert at dream analysis, but it's obvious the parallels she's drawing between the death of this creature and well, me. But it was just a dream, and as touched as I am that she's worried about my safety, I'm more concerned about hers.

Settling down next to her, I take Katniss's hand in mine and lean down to catch her gaze. "Are you scared that if I go, I'll get hurt?"

Katniss studies my face, watching my every movement with an unnerving intensity. "Yes."

"And you're basing this fear solely on a dream?"

"No," she answers immediately, but then her jaw tightens and she pulls her hand back, clearly annoyed.

If she's trying to tell me something, speaking in riddles isn't going to work. Frustration takes the lead of my conflicting emotions and I run a hand through my hair. "Then what?" I taunt, getting to my feet to start pacing again. I'm not about to let her clam up now. "What is it you're not telling me?

I don't know why I expect an answer; it's obvious I'm not going to get one, and I'm nearing the end of my rope on the matter. Maybe it really is time we parted ways, and I try to think hard on what little information I've been able to glean over the past few weeks. Her people are at least a day's walk somewhere east of here, and with the HOLO, it wouldn't be too hard to locate them. So if I don't _really_ need her to tell me anything, then why am I still here arguing? She said it herself I'm not a prisoner, and that I'm free to leave whenever I want.

Then why can't I bring myself to just do it? Put one foot in front of the other and just walk out of here? But that's a stupid question. I know the exact reason why I can't leave, and she's currently scowling at me. This wild and beautiful and frustratingly stubborn woman who over the past few weeks has become the center of my world, my only source of comfort and safety on this unfamiliar and at times unforgiving planet. This woman who's somehow worked her way beneath my skin like an incessant itch that I can't help but scratch and scratch and scratch until my skin is raw and exposed. But _damn_ , the more I scratch at it, the better it feels and a part of me hopes it never goes away.

The reason I can't just turn my back on her and leave is that there's this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sick feeling that's telling me if I set off on my own without her approval that I'll never see her again. And that...that scares me more than the unknown fate of my people or hers.

With a heavy sigh, I drop to the floor and hang my head between my knees, the sudden movement causing my wound to throb. "I'm so tired, Katniss." And I really am, I'm beyond exhausted, mentally and emotionally and physically. When I'm met with silence, I clench my jaw so hard that I'm half afraid it'll break off. Looking up, I find her watching me with those infuriatingly guarded eyes.

"Do you know what it's like?" I continue, my gaze never wavering from hers. "How hard it is bearing the weight of your entire race's survival on your shoulders? Knowing you might die in the process, all for nothing? I don't want to argue, but please, don't make this any harder on me than it already is. Don't make me choose between my loyalty to my people or to you, because you know what? If I had to make a choice right now, I promise you I'd be nothing but selfish. And it's because of that I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

I shut my eyes, the start of a headache creeping up the back of my neck. She still hasn't said a word and I'm starting to think I've been reading her wrong all along. I guess that's it, then. Her silence has finalized my decision. Rising to my feet, I reach down to gather up my sleeping bag and start stuffing it into my pack.

"It's time I left. I didn't want to leave with things between us so tense, but you're giving me no other option. I can't begin to thank you enough for everything you've done. For taking me in, feeding me, saving my life not only once but tw—"

"They will kill you!" she suddenly blurts out, effectively cutting me off.

My hands freeze as her words rattle around the inside of my skull, taking a few seconds to sink in. Swallowing thickly, I drop my pack to the floor. "What are you talking about?"

Her shocked expression must match my own, but she shakes it off, squaring her shoulders as if she's ready for a fight. "If you go searching for my village," she starts, her voice now eerily calm, "my people will capture you. And when the times comes, the elders will kill you."

"When the times comes," I repeat absently, and then something clicks into place.

"This is about the reaping, isn't it? What you really meant when you said my kind are valuable?" Katniss looks away, and I let out a long breath. Shaking my head, I can't help but bark out a laugh.

 _Un-fucking-believable_. Of all things to feel, betrayal seems to top the list, which is absurd. I'm the one who's been skirting the truth and lying through my teeth this whole time, but still. Here I was, ready to walk right into her village with the best of intentions and do the right thing. Jokes on me, I guess. More like walk myself straight to the sacrificial altar. I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face as I ease myself onto the ground.

"So I'm the suitable sacrifice, the one that will bring an end to the reaping?" I ask, trying to inject some calmness into my voice. "And you really believe killing me will bring prosperity and your people back in favor with the Great Spirit?"

Katniss reels back, then meeting my glare head-on, she shoots to her feet and marches right up to me, not stopping until her face is just inches away from mine. "Do not insult my intelligence. Of course, I do not believe that the murder of innocent children—or _anyone_ for that matter—has any effect on the wind or the rain. There are some things in this world that I cannot explain or even begin to understand, but the belief in ancient superstitions is not one of them.

"I understand fear and desperation, and how easily they can be used to twist the minds of the weak and force them into submission. But do you know what else is just as powerful?" She doesn't wait for an answer and forges on. "Hope. No matter how small it may be, if there is a shred of hope, they will cling to it. No matter what the cost."

And in this case, that cost is the same price I had to pay the moment my name was selected for this damn mission. I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. Maybe if I rub hard enough I'll wake up in my old bed aboard the ship, far away from this messed up dream.

When I open my eyes again, some of the tension has left her face, only to be replaced by sadness. "But why?" I ask quietly. "Why _me_?"

"Do you remember the story I told you about the Great Spirit and her lover?"

My eyes narrow at the random question, but I nod. "Yes, she fell in love with a star, and your people are the descendants of their offspring."

Tilting her head, she lifts a hand and I have to keep from shivering when her fingers lightly brush along the side of my face. "And what do you think the elders believe the Great Spirit desires above all else?"

She's staring so intently into my eyes that some of my anger fades and I feel something inside my chest shift, then give way as I let out a shaky breath. It doesn't take a genius to answer that question. It's what everyone wants, no matter what planet they're from.

"Someone to love," I say, all the fight now gone from my voice.

Her sad smile tells me I'm right, but she nods anyway. "They believe if they return one of your kind to her, she will no longer be lonely." Katniss's face hardens. "That is why you must stay away from my village."

My shoulders sag from the hopeless situation I've now found myself in. I was an idiot to think that knowing her reason for secrecy would bring me…I don't know, understanding or peace of mind. All it's done is complicate things even more. None of my options are looking too good right now, least of all offering myself up as a sacrifice to a bunch of horrifyingly misguided elders to save the lives of innocent children.

"Is that why you never let me leave the cave alone?" I ask. "Were you afraid your people would find me?"

"It is naïve to believe I was the only one to see you fall from the sky, especially after the explosion. I am hoping if anyone finds what is left of your POD, they will believe you perished along with it. But yes, there is a chance some are still hunting for you."

The words from when I first met Katniss flicker through my memory: _I am not the only hunter in these woods._ Makes me wonder if she was only referring to that beast we heard that night. And what about my leg? Was that really an accident?

"That snare that got me, you said it was meant for a much larger beast. Was that a lie? Was it really meant for me?"

"I would not lie to you about that." The corners of Katniss's mouth dip into a frown. "Besides, I am not good at lying."

There's a snippy comment just perched on the edge of my tongue, something about how withholding the truth is pretty much the same as lying. But that'd just make me a hypocrite, so I keep my mouth shut.

That headache I've been trying to fend off has finally arrived, the throbbing behind my eyes almost unbearable. I bring a hand to my face and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my head. There has to be another option, one that doesn't involve trading in my life for the survival of others.

Katniss is still staring up at me, her fingers now tracing a line down my cheek and along my jaw, but I have to admit, the soothing motion is a pleasant distraction. But I don't need a distraction right now, what I need is some time and space to take a step back and think, revaluate my alternatives with what I now know.

I reach up to absently fiddle with my ident tag, my thumb grazing back and forth over the indentations of the inscription on the back. Truth is, what I really need is a long nap and a—wait a minute…the truth? _And the truth will set you free._ Clutching the dangling tag in my hand, I direct my gaze to the floor in search of my pack.

Katniss must sense my shift in mood because her hand ceases from stroking my cheek, then drops down to her side. "What is it?"

"Tell me, does everyone in your village believe in the Great Spirit?"

"No, there are others like me. Many were friends with my father."

"Then that's who we need to talk to first," I say, a plan quickly taking shape in my mind. "And then we talk to the elders."

"Talk?" Her brow furrows. "About what?"

"I have something I know will change their minds."

"What?" There's doubt in her eyes, but at least she hasn't shut me down completely yet and seems willing to hear me out.

"Knowledge," I say, bending down to dig my tablet out of my pack. I hand it over to her with a hopeful smile. "Everything my people know, our history, our failures, everything from medicine to agriculture. It's all in here. With what my ancestors knew of farming and science, we could teach your people how to predict weather patterns, maximize yield, and prolong their harvest.

"If we could find a way to get the elders to listen, we could prove to them that there's no need to continue on with the reaping. You said it yourself that I'm of value to them. Couldn't we use that to our advantage? Say that I was sent here by the Great Spirit with a gift, perhaps. Say that she's tired of seeing your people suffer and—"

"You mean lie to them," she says in a flat voice, clearly unimpressed by my plan.

"Only at the start. We just need to get them to listen."

"It is still too dangerous," she says, shaking her head. "You are already risking your life for your people; you do not need to risk it for mine. You said more are coming, so let us wait for them. Perhaps then, when you are in greater numbers, we can approach the elders. Did you not say they could arrive any day now?"

I don't recall mentioning that, but maybe she's caught on to the countdown she's spied on my communicuff. "There's no guarantee that anyone else is coming. I haven't heard a word from my people since the day I arrived. For all I know, one of the other planets was more promising."

"What other planets?"

"There are other planets in your solar system that have the potential to sustain life. Yours is just one of them; it's why I was sent here. There are twelve others just like me who were sent to those planets to…to explore. For all I know, no one could be coming."

Katniss looks away, brows furrowed as she processes it all. Then she shakes her head, stubborn as usual. "That does not change my decision."

I know it's not the best plan ever, but it's something, and I need her to get on board or else there's no chance it'll work. "But think about the reaping," I say, knowing that with my next blow I'm aiming below the belt, but I need to make her see reason. "If your sister was still alive, would you still feel the same? If you were given another chance to save her, wouldn't you take it?"

The silence stretches out between us, but then her face hardens and she slams her palms into my chest. I lose my balance, but Katniss catches hold of my arm and steadies me before I can topple over. Despite the flash of worry that crosses her face, it's obvious she's still pissed and to prove her point, grabs hold of my shoulder and gives me a hard shake. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Perhaps," I say, pitching my voice low and calm because all this arguing isn't getting us anywhere. We're both on edge, trembling with anger and frustration, all thanks to this shitty hand we've been dealt. I need to defuse the situation before she completely shuts me out. "It's the best I can come up with, and besides, how could I possibly live with myself knowing that I threw away a chance to save so many innocent lives?"

She's stopped shaking me, so I cover her hand on my shoulder with my own. Her hand underneath mine balls up into a fist and I can see the emotions waging battle beneath that steely composure of hers.

"You have to let me try," I plead.

Just when I think she's about to completely lose it and either walk away or punch me, she buries her face into my chest and lets out a ragged gasp. The soft velvet of her antlers brushes against my chin, and it takes a few seconds to realize she's trying desperately not to cry. It breaks my heart seeing her so upset, and I hate that I'm the one who's trying to drag her into this. I run my palms up and down her arms in slow, soothing motions, hoping to provide comfort and ease some of her pain.

"I cannot let you go," she whispers, her lips warm against my skin. "You promised."

My hands still, then pulling away, I stare into her large, grey eyes. They're still glassy with unshed tears but there's something else there, something that causes my heart to beat faster. "What are you talking about?"

The muscles of her neck constrict as she swallows and my eyes can't help but be drawn to the bare skin of her throat.

"When I was waiting for you to recover from the _nightlock_ ," she says, dragging my attention back to her face. "There were times when you awoke, but not completely. At first, you spoke only mumbled words that I could not understand, which is when I began to fear that I had misjudged how much I gave you. But then the next time you woke, your words were still few but more clear. You called out to me, repeating my name over and over as your fever peaked and I was afraid you would not make it through the night. A whole day passed before you awoke again, but this time, there was no mistaking your words, and…and you said…"

I swallow thickly. "What did I say?"

"You said that we must protect each other, and you promised you would never leave me. I believed it was the infection speaking, but each time you woke after that, you repeated those same words. Then the last time you spoke before you awoke for real, you made me promise to trust you, even if I did not understand your actions and felt betrayed. When I asked why I should trust you if you planned to deceive me, do you know what you said?"

From the way my heart is desperately trying to hammer its way out of my chest, I think I have a pretty good idea of what my uninhibited mind would think to say. But I don't dare say a word.

"Because you love me," she rasps.

Even though I knew it was coming, I still stand there, stunned, eyes wide and mouth agape because, well, what else am I supposed to do?

"Katniss…I…I…" But my words get stuck in my throat because I'm still waiting for my brain to process what's going on…what she's just said…what _I've_ apparently said. But I'm not going to deny it because now that it's out in the open, a part of me feels relieved. I know I should say something, but how do I even begin to explain how deeply I've come to feel for her, especially when I've been trying to fool myself this entire time.

She must sense my internal dilemma, and she takes pity on me, giving me a sad smile. "I would never hold you to words I know you did not speak with a clear conscience," she says, and I'm about to object but she shushes me by placing a finger against my lips. "But know this…"

Katniss pushes up onto her toes and I don't resist when she pulls my face down the rest of the way until her mouth hovers a hair's breath away from mine. Then her lips part, and a puff of warm breath fans over mine.

"I love you, too," she whispers, her voice soft and raw.

And that's when the weight on my chest lifts and the rest of my resolve shatters. Whatever we've just been arguing about fades to nothing and the rest of the world can go to hell for all I care, because all that matters right now is the look of complete and utter sincerity in her eyes. Her words replay over and over in my head, the insecure part of my mind searching for any hint of uncertainty or deceit. But my heart skips a beat when there's none to be found.

 _Katniss loves me._

My arms circle her waist, pulling her body to me so tight that if it were physically possible, I'd absorb her into my soul. Our mouths crash together and when her lips open wider against mine in surprise, I don't waste a second. My tongue slips into her mouth, sliding along hers until she's meeting me stroke for stroke. And it feels so good, so right, I can't believe I was actually considering leaving this woman without telling her how I really feel. Because if anyone should know, it's me. Life is too short and unpredictable to live with regrets.

Katniss's hands are on the move, settling on the back of my head where her fingers dig into my scalp, gripping my hair to hold me in place. When my hands drift down to cup her backside, she releases a soft little noise and her hips circle against my erection that until now I've been trying to ignore. And _fuck_ if that doesn't cause me to almost lose it. Moaning again, but this time in protest because I'm pulling away, she pants for breath as I take in the dazed look in her eyes.

She licks her lips and the sight of her flushed cheeks and hopeful smile is so beautiful it makes my chest ache. But I need to know this is what she really wants because if it is, it changes everything. There's no turning back if we choose to go down this road. Cupping her chin, I run my thumb across her cheek. "Are you sure about this?"

"Do you trust me?"

I chuckle. Only Katniss would answer a question like that with another question. "With my life."

"Then believe me when I say that what I feel in my heart is true and unlike anything I have felt before. Just the thought of losing you after all I have done to keep you, I could not bear it. It is why I withheld the truth, and I will not apologize for wanting to keep you safe."

Grinning like an idiot, I lean in to press a kiss to her forehead. "Lucky for you, I accept your non-apology."

So this is it then. We're in this together now, which means we're going to find a way out of this together too. Stroking along the back of her dress, I notice her muscles tense. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," I say, hoping to ease her apprehension. "And I mean what I said: I can't leave now, not anymore. We'll figure something out. We have to."

"You won't leave me?" she asks, and the uncertainty in her voice has me pulling her closer until her cheek rests against my chest.

"I promise."

"Good." With a smile full of mystery and mischief, she pushes out of my arms and takes hold of my hand, tugging me towards the back of the cave. "Now come, I have something to show you."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : So sorry for the long wait between chapters, real life got in the way but I hope to get back to a more regulated posting schedule after this. I really hope you liked this chapter, but I have a feeling you're all going to LOVE the next one (hehe). A fun fact I came across while writing this chapter:

\- The name _**Phaethon**_ , which I chose for the sun on DIST-12, is a character from Greek mythology and is known for approaching his father, Phoebus (the Sun-God), and asking to allow him to drive the sun chariot across the sky for the day as a way of proving his parentage. Pheobus warned his son that it was an impossible task, but Phaethon was adamant and long story short, he was unable to commandeer the horses. As a result, the chariot went off course and scorched the Earth, specifically Africa changing it into a desert. Earth cried out to Jupiter (Zeus) for help, who struck Phaethon down with a lightning bolt, and like a fallen star, he plunged into the river Eridanos (one of the rivers of Hades) and died.

A huge thanks to my support team which is made up of my wonderful betas _**court81981**_ and _**titaniasfics**_ , and to _**loving-mellark**_ for pre-reading and for gifting me with the amazing banner for this story. And to my faithful readers, new and old, thank you so much for sticking around and taking a chance on this one with me! I love hearing your feedback and theories, it's the best motivation a writer could ask for :)

You can find me on tumblr anytime: _**pookieh**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated "M" for language and specifically for this chapter, for sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

* * *

"Close your eyes."

There's a breathy quality to Katniss's request that causes my next step to falter as I follow her towards the back of the cave. I almost crash into her back when she comes to an abrupt halt, releasing my hand and twisting around on her heel. She stares up at me, her eyes slightly narrowed and the corner of her mouth twitching on a smile.

I can't help but grin, relieved to see this playful side of Katniss return. The way her hands tremble, though, as she takes a step back and fidgets with the end of her braid…there's a hint of uncertainty. The last thing I want is for her to retreat back into her usual reserved shell, so I dutifully shut my eyes. "What are you up to?" I muse.

She doesn't answer right away, my ears straining to hear the sound of her footsteps as she pads away but then I catch it, the swishing of cloth and ruffling of something on her bed. A lump forms in my throat as a dozen less than innocent images flash through my mind. I fight back a groan, clearing my throat as I shake my head. "Uh, Katniss?"

A minute later, her quiet voice fills the room and a shiver runs down my spine. "Open your eyes."

Back on Earth, people used to believe that if you stared directly into the sun the last image captured by your mind's eye would be forever burned into your memory. An afterimage, bathed in red and yellow and white, that would haunt you for the rest of your life. If that's the case, Katniss must be more radiant than the Earth's sun, because the image before me is one that will forever be branded into my mind. One that, guaranteed, I'll be seeing every time I close my eyes.

I blink, long and slow, then one more time for good measure. Is this really happening? It's impossible to look anywhere else, even with the burn in my chest that demands my attention. The breath I've been holding spirals out of my lungs in a rush, but my entire world stays focused on the woman before me, who paints the most erotic picture I've ever seen.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, the pain barely registering as my hungry eyes drift over every single part of her, fascinated by the exposed skin on display before me. She's kneeling on the bed, legs spread apart and arms at her sides. Her long hair hangs in loose waves over her breasts, and with each breath she takes, the thick strands shift, teasing me with a brief glimpse of dark nipples. The absence of pubic hair has me wondering if that's natural or if she tends to it, but I keep my mouth shut just in case I do something stupid…like ask. My gaze can't seem to settle, darting from her curved waistline to the swells of her breasts, from the dip of her navel to the flare of her hips that I'm already picturing catching hold of and—and what the hell am I thinking?

Forcing my attention back up to her face, I find her staring, head held high and eyes bright with an internal blazing fire. She moistens her lips, and when I picture that mouth of hers pressed against mine, my heart races even faster. I swallow hard, half afraid my mind is playing tricks on me, but my cock doesn't have any trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality.

"Katniss?" I manage to get out, my voice low and hoarse, almost unrecognizable to my own ears. But then she lifts a hand and brushes her hair off her shoulders, baring the hidden treasures beneath as she continues to stare up at me with those deep-set grey eyes. I can't help it: I groan. My erection presses harder against the front of my already too-tight pants and responds with an eager twitch.

Closing my eyes, I give my head a good shake. How can anyone think straight with all that naked skin staring back at them, let alone string two words together to form a coherent sentence? It's a struggle to inhale a deep and much-needed breath as I try to get my thoughts in order.

"Katniss," I start again. "W-why are you naked? I mean…shit, that was a dumb question, but I mean, I have a pretty good idea why, but…" _Damn,_ why can't I just spit it out already? Swallowing thickly, I try again. "I, um, don't want to assume anything and for all I know this could be a terrible, _terrible_ idea or—"

"Look at me," she says, the commanding edge to her voice cutting me off. Prying an eye open, I see that she's now on her feet. Her gaze never wavers from mine as she takes a step closer, then another and another until if I just reached out, I could trap her in my arms. Lifting a hand, she traces a finger down the front of my suit. "Enough talk. I want to see you."

"Why?" I ask dumbly, but I don't move a muscle as her fingers work at the clasps of my jacket, then tug down on the sleeves to free my shoulders. We both know full well that she's seen me naked before but…this is different. Although I'm still wearing my undershirt, I might as well be naked with the way she's staring at my chest.

Taking one of my hands in hers, she places it over her breast. All the blood in my head rushes down south the moment her taut nipple grazes my palm, and I suck in a breath. It's a perfect fit, and my fingers have a mind of their own as they curl in, gently caressing the soft mound and testing the weight of it. With a slight twist of my wrist, my fingers trace the underside of her breast and my thumb brushes over the peak.

A soft yet ragged gasp sends my eyes darting up, just in time to catch her eyelids fluttering shut and lips parting. Her grip on my shoulder tightens, her nails biting into my bicep. I'm amazed at how responsive she is, and a smug part of me is curious to see what other sounds I can draw from those tempting lips. With the pad of my thumb, I circle the darker skin surrounding her nipple, slowly working my way back towards the center as I gauge her features. Her low, throaty moan when I roll the bud between my fingers has my stomach clenching. It's too much.

I wrench my hand back, fisting my fingers to keep from doing anything more. Based on the boldness of her first move, I have a pretty good idea of where we're going with this, but how far does she plan on going, exactly? I'm all in if mutual exploration is what she's after but if it's going to be one-sided, I'm better off keeping my clothes on, for both our sakes. But if it's _more_ that she's after…well, the last thing I want is for something to get lost in translation.

It doesn't help that my mind is being pulled in a million different directions as my emotions battle between tossing rationality to the wayside in favor of primitive curiosity or hanging on to those final threads of morality _._ The lower part of me is wondering when it'll be its turn to explore, but it's best to leave things up to my other head at the moment. Are we moving too fast? How is this going to work exactly? Are we even physically compatible? What if I get her pregnant? Can I even _get_ her pregnant? _Shit_.

Those intense eyes of hers are watching me again, waiting for me to do or say something, but my tongue suddenly feels too big for my mouth. "Do you not find my body appealing?" she asks. I'm shocked at the hurt in her voice as she backs away.

"No! I mean, yes! Just look at you…" I trail off to do just that, running my eyes down and then back up her body. "You're perfect."

"Then what is wrong?"

Closing my eyes, I take a calming breath. "I'm trying really hard to do this the right way, but first I need to be absolutely sure we're on the same page. What I think you're trying to say is that you want to, uh, you know…" I end feebly, gesturing between the two of us and then the bed. Hell, if I can't even bring myself to say it, how can I expect myself to go through with it? Maybe the fear of rejection has me cautious of putting my hopes into words.

Katniss inches closer, shoulders back and looking nothing but sure. "Yes, I want you to mount me." Then without warning, she reaches for my shirt, tugging it from my pants as she tries to wrangle it off my body.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I say, grabbing hold of her wrists to still her hands. If her blatant confession didn't clear things up, her eagerness certainly did. With cheeks burning, I clear my throat. "I think there's something you should know first." Katniss cocks an eyebrow but doesn't move away. Blowing out a shaky breath, I force my eyes to stay locked with hers as the words tumble from my mouth, "I've never had sex before—I mean, I've never _mounted_ anyone before."

There. I said it. I'm not exactly sure what kind of a reaction I'm looking for, but when Katniss's head tilts and her curious eyes search my face, I can't help my hackles from going up in defense.

Just because I can count the number of times I've been alone with a girl on one hand, doesn't mean I'm completely clueless with what goes on between a man and a woman behind closed doors. I've overheard more than enough, thanks to my brothers and the cadets that gather at the Hob to blow off steam and brag about their romantic conquests over a few drinks. Factor in the first-hand knowledge my childhood friend and neighbor Delly Cartwright bestowed upon me, I have a pretty good idea of how to proceed.

We were both sixteen, Delly and I, and more than a little curious about the opposite sex. After a few heated hours spent locked away in a supply closet, I'd learned more about the female body from Delly than my brothers or anyone at the Hob combined. But emotionally speaking, nothing serious ever transpired between us, or ever would, because Delly was never interested in me in that way. Not even a week later, she confessed to me that guys just didn't do it for her. And looking back now, I'm glad we never went all the way or moved beyond our childhood friendship.

Katniss is still staring at me, but now her pursed mouth is frowning. It's obvious she doesn't believe me, but then her features soften and something in her eyes do too, her tentative smile setting me at ease. "Then neither of us will know if what the other does is wrong."

I shake my head and chuckle, thankful that one of us still seems to have a sense of humor. Running a hand across the back of my neck, I try to squeeze away the tension. "Will this even work?"

"Yes. You are the same as our males," she says, glancing down at the front of my pants. A little smirk plays across her lips. "If not a little…larger."

Bluntness be damned but she's good. Seems flattery works every time, no matter where in the galaxy you are, and the erection straining even harder against my pants seems to agree. At least she's brave enough to put her feelings into words and act upon what I've been trying to deny these past few weeks. But there's no denying it anymore. That part of my brain that keeps telling me this should be wrong on so many levels? Yeah, it's no match for twenty years of pent-up sexual frustration. Or the naked woman standing right in front of me.

"But I don't want to hurt you," I finally get out, voicing my biggest worry. Or disappoint her, which if I'm being honest, comes in at a close second.

"Peeta, it will work," she says, tugging at my shirt again. "Now remove this. _Please_?"

That one word shatters the last of my crumbling resolve. Doing as she asked, I pull my shirt over my head and after taking a moment to fold it, I set it down on the floor. Every move I make she watches with such interest that a bit of insecurity creeps in as I toe off my boots and reach for the clasp of my pants. Inhaling a shaky breath, I hook my thumbs in the waistband and shove everything down my legs at once, kicking it all to the side. I straighten upright. I don't have to look to know that's not all that's standing at attention. But if we're going to go through with this, being shy over a bit of nakedness is a moot point.

I watch her face, but her eyes are riveted to the spot between my legs, which only makes me painfully harder. She reaches out, but then hesitates, glancing up as if seeking permission to touch. I nod, but instead of going where I think she's headed, her hand caresses mine and she gives it a gentle squeeze.

Then her fingers are on the move, blazing a heated path up my arm and to my shoulder, then across my collarbone and down the center of my chest. Her fingers pause to play at the sparse patch of hair there before continuing lower. I know damn well where she's going now, but find myself frozen in place by her captivating touch. My body jerks, though, when she reaches my bellybutton and my cock brushes beneath her forearm, leaving a glistening damp trail along her skin.

Too afraid to speak, I take a quick breath and hold it in when her fingers finally touch upon the base of my shaft. All the air from my lungs rushes back out the moment her fingers wrap around me, giving a tight tug as if to make sure the damn thing won't break off. My legs tremble as I fight to remain vertical, but then she yanks again, earning her a throaty groan. But when she tries to do it again, I grab hold of her hand.

Her head snaps up, wide eyes locking with mine. "It's okay," I soothe, hoping I didn't scare her. "You didn't do anything wrong, it's just…if you keep doing that, I won't last."

Understanding sinks in and she nods, releasing her grip as both our hands fall away from my straining cock. Her curious hand finds purchase on my hip and she continues her exploration, running her gaze up and down my body before stepping around me to trail her fingers along my backside. I sense her gaze on the back of my neck, and my spine prickles with awareness. When her nails lightly scrape at the underside of one ass cheek, I bark out a laugh and thrust my hips forward. Who knew I'd be ticklish there? Resuming my stance with a chuckle, she comes back around to my front, eyes glancing at mine before dropping to stare at my mouth.

"I want to kiss you," she says, inching in until our toes are almost touching. Taking my hands, she leans in even closer and places them low on her hips. "And feel your hands on me."

With a mind of their own, my fingers dig into her skin and the tip of my cock makes contact with her stomach. _Oh hell_. I tug her closer, trapping her against me as she cradles my face in her hands.

I wait for it, letting her close the final distance between us because after this there's no turning back. We're in this together and we're going to see this through to the end. My tongue darts out the moment just before her lips make contact with mine, and pushing up onto her tiptoes, she throws me for a loop. Instead of the slow and exploratory kiss I'm expecting, she claims me with lips and tongue and teeth.

Groaning against her mouth, something deep inside me stirs. Her head tilts and as her lips continue to play with mine, that something inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest to the tips of my fingers and the balls of my feet. I want more. _Need_ more. Need to taste the inside of her mouth and explore every inch of her skin. Need to trail my lips down her body, taste between her legs and, hell, _inside_ her.

I'm not the only one feeling this carnal pull because her hands leave my face and wander into my hair, nails raking along my scalp as she pulls me down closer. A hungry moan fills the cave; whether it's hers or mine I haven't a clue, but it's her low whimper that causes my arms to wrap tighter, dragging her up my body. Her legs come round my hips, clinging to me as I walk us to the back of the cave. The way she's on me has me moaning, the wet heat from her center pressing torturously against my cock with each step.

Suddenly, she wrenches her lips from mine. "Your leg! Set me down!" She tries to squirm out of my grasp, but it only causes my hold on her to tighten.

"Nope." The only place I'm putting her down is on that damn bed. After a few more wiggles she stills, but then the corner of her mouth lifts.

Before I know it, her lips ghost past mine, a hot rush of breath fanning over me, but only for a second before she traces the line along my jaw with licks and gentle nips. I can't keep my eyes from falling shut, and _damn_ , when her teeth graze the spot just below my ear, I suck in a loud gasp. That felt incredible. Everything she does feels incredible. I can't help but roll my hips, just once, and after a few more steps my foot bumps into something. Carefully, I lower onto my knees and set her down on her back, mindful of her antlers.

Katniss moves to roll over onto her stomach but I catch hold of her waist before she can. The odd look she gives me has me second-guessing myself, but she complies with my silent request, and wiggling herself further up the furs, she rests her head on a pillow as she watches me. I have no idea what constitutes as foreplay on this planet, beyond kissing that is, but I quickly decide to just go with what I know and if she doesn't like what I'm doing, I'm certain she'll let me know.

Once she's settled, I allow myself a moment to take in the view. First with only my eyes but then with my hands. From her parted lips to the dip at the base of her throat. From the freckle just below her left breast to the soft swell of her stomach. I skim my fingers lower across the smooth expanse of skin to where her legs part, leaving a wake of pebbled skin behind, but then her body tenses. Glancing back to her face, there's an intensity there I've never seen before.

"Is this alright?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. "Can I touch you here?" Her throat bobs as she swallows, but then she nods. Just to be on the safe side, I clarify my intentions. "With my mouth too?" When her eyes widen, I begin to retract my hand, but she grabs hold of it and keeps it in place. I wish I knew what was going on in her head right now because I'm starting to think this is a bad idea. I relax a little when she blinks but then nods again.

The last thing I want is for her to be uncomfortable—or to regret this—so to ease the apprehension from her beautiful face, I slide my hand up to her hip and lean back down for a slow, drugging kiss. Her soft lips open under mine and I take my time, exploring her mouth in its entirety, slicking our tongues together, then teasing her further with a playful nip of her bottom lip before moving on to her neck.

My hand finds her breast, and she pants up at me as I lazily circle her nipple with the flat of my palm. I can't help but smirk when I pull my lips away from her heated skin and she huffs, clearly annoyed, but it's short-lived. A quick glance down to her chest is all the warning she gets when I lunge forward, my lips sealing around a taut peak and taking a generous amount into my mouth. I suck hard and her hands fly into my hair, not pulling my head away but rather holding me in place. That's a good sign, so I do it again, tugging harder on her nipple before allowing my teeth to scrape over it.

"Peeta," she moans, the rasp of her voice sending a jolt of fire straight to my cock. With the tip of my tongue, I paint a trail of moisture across the valley between her breasts in search of her other nipple. Katniss practically shoves it into my waiting mouth where I don't hesitate to work the bud between my teeth and tongue. It doesn't take long before she's soft and pliable in my arms once again, uttering sounds of desire between gasps.

I need to stop. If I don't, I'm bound to lose it and make a mess out of things, quite literally. Releasing her breast from the confines of my mouth, Katniss is hesitant to let go of my head.

"Don't worry, we're just getting started," I say, tracing the underside of her breast with my nose. She releases my hair, allowing me to work my way down the flat of her belly, grazing my lips along the way. I chance a glance up at her face as I dip the tip of my tongue into her bellybutton, and my heart stills at the serious look pinching her face. "You sure this is okay?" I ask, dragging my chin across her skin. Those intense eyes of hers bore into me and without a word, nods her head.

Blowing out a breath, I scoot back a bit and lower myself between her spread legs, taking a second to settle into a somewhat comfortable position. I'm not sure what I'm expecting to find, but up close and personal, she looks exactly the same as a human woman. Eager to explore, I rub my thumb along her silt, all the way up until it catches on her clit, and then slowly back down to her entrance.

I'm amazed at how wet she is, and when I finally dip a finger inside her, my cock throbs. _Tight_. She's so damn tight. Her hips lift when I start to search the confines of her wet heat, seeking out that spot I'm hoping to find. A quiet whimper escapes her lips and Katniss's head tilts back, a low moan filling the cave.

"Right there?" I murmur, watching as her body tries to sink further onto my finger. Her keening cry is an unequivocal "yes", and with her eyes shut and bottom lip caught between her teeth, her body starts to move in time with my hand. She's practically riding my finger and I almost lose it for the umpteenth time when her hand finds my shoulder, nails digging into my skin. Something inside me snaps. I can't stop myself from leaning in and latching my lips around her clit, rolling it against my tongue over and over.

"Oh!" she cries out, eyes going wide, and for a split-second, I regret my rash decision. But then she hikes up her knees, spreading her legs farther apart in a blatant invitation for me to do it again. So with my eyes on hers, I stroke my tongue over her folds again, then again, fast and then slow, with the tip of my tongue and then with the flat of it, and every which way I can think of until I know exactly what she needs by the desperate sounds she's making.

I know I'm doing something right when I take it between my lips and flick back and forth with the tip of my tongue because her hips shoot off the bedcovers and she rubs herself up against me. I'm so damn hard, but I can't stop tonguing her like a man on a mission. Her thighs smack against the sides of my face and her hands are in my hair, pulling me in even further if that's even possible.

Her entire body tenses and I know she's so damn close to a release when her breaths start coming out in little fits and gasps, like she's trying desperately to hold back her pleasure. I really wish she wouldn't. I want to hear it, all of it.

Wrenching my mouth away but keeping my fingers working a steady rhythm, I take a ragged breath. "I want to hear you," I say when her frantic gaze meets mine. Then before she can get a word out, I dive back down between her legs, winding an arm around her thighs as I suck her clit back into my mouth. _Hard_.

That's all it takes. Back bowing off the bed as her keening cry fills the cave, I bite back a moan when she pulses around my fingers. She's still panting when her body eventually melts back into the furs, but I can't seem to pull away just yet. I slow my tongue, flicking lazily at her clit a few more times, completely fascinated by the little aftershocks that shoot through her.

With the taste of her still on my tongue, I sit back on my haunches, watching as Katniss recovers. My lips purse to keep from chuckling when she struggles to find some semblance of balance, then somehow manages to roll over and prop herself up onto her elbows, her naked ass sticking straight up into the air. We're both still trying to catch our breath, but I manage to inhale some much-needed air when I notice the arousal still coating the insides of her thighs. My cock twitches at the sight and I lick my lips.

 _Damn_. I glance down at my trembling hands, the desire to run them over every glorious inch of her body burning through me. The thought of being buried deep inside her has me groaning and I can't keep my hands to myself any longer. I skim a palm over her smooth skin from thigh to hip, captivated by the way her muscles twitch beneath my touch. But I'm just tormenting myself now. My cock is throbbing and when it brushes up against the backs of her legs, she sucks in a deep breath. Intrigued, I do it again, making a point to let the tip graze against her folds. I'm rewarded with a breathy moan, but it's my undoing.

As tempting as it is to just pound into her this very second, I want to see her. Want to watch her face and relish in her reaction when I finally enter her. Leaning over, I whisper against the shell of her ear, "Turn over."

"But…that is not how it is done." Her shaky voice holds a hint of apprehension, so I squeeze her hip and try to coax her over.

"Please? I want to see your face." Katniss stands her ground for a moment, unmoving, but then with a sigh, twists onto her back and spreads her legs wide.

For fear of my heart beating right out of my chest, I take a deep breath, the scent and sight of her filling my senses. Her eyes, which have darkened to a smoky grey, are trained on my face as I inch closer, cock in hand as I lean over her body, balancing myself with my free hand next to her head. I guide the thick crown between her thighs, the tip just nudging against her entrance and _holy hell_ , I'm not going to last. Both of our tortured moans cut through the air the moment I ease into her, but despite my best efforts to take it slow, Katniss lifts her hips to take me deeper and I freeze.

Fear overrides all my other emotions for a tense moment as I wait to hit a barrier, followed by her pained cry. But pure desire is written all over her face and I easily slide in more and more, meeting no resistance until I'm in all the way. Testing the waters, I pull out just a bit and slowly ease back in, releasing a heavy sigh when there's no sign of fear or pain on Katniss's face.

I start out slow, pumping into her with measured strokes, finally allowing myself to revel in the hot tightness surrounding me. A slight twinge of pain shoots up my thigh, radiating from my scar, but I ignore it, the pleasure far outweighing the pain. There are no words to describe how she feels, and that's pretty much all I can do: just feel. Feel the way her walls close around me, clenching and releasing my cock with each thrust. It feels so impossibly good that it's borderline torture. Torture to just give in to basic animal instinct and surge into her deep and mark her as mine.

I'm on the verge of losing it, astonished that I haven't already, and the pressure in my balls is a less than gentle warning that I'm not going to last much longer. But I try my damnedest, pitching my hips to thrust in and out of her with long, rolling strokes. One of her legs wraps around my hip, and I let out a breathy laugh when she tries to speed me up, lifting her hips as she pulls me further into her body with her heel.

"More," she demands as her fingers splay across my back, her blunt nails raking up and down to urge me on. I answer with a tortured groan, barely holding it together and unable to put into words just how much more I desperately want to give her.

Bracing myself with one hand, I grip her hip with the other, pinning her in place. Our eyes meet as I dig my fingers into the soft flesh above her backside. I let myself go, pushing hard between her legs, my hips jerking and grinding against her with no rhythm at all, just the primal urge to claim her and possess her spurring me on. My hips jolt with one last hard thrust, burying me deep as she clings to my shoulders. Pleasure spirals through me, my climax hitting me straight in the gut as I shudder and moan, emptying everything I have into her.

I swear she's going to leave marks with how hard she's gripping me, but when her breath hitches and her body shakes beneath me, thighs trembling and pressing against my hips, I know she's going to come again. And with her lip caught between her teeth, she does, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink as her walls clamp down around me and pulse. Continuing to rock into her gently, we both ride out our own pleasure.

Utterly spent, my arms finally give way as I pull out, collapsing next to her on the furs. With the sweet, heady scent of sex still swirling around us, I wait for my heightened senses to return to normal, though I'm in no hurry to move. I don't doubt I could fall asleep in this exact position if I allowed myself, but my racing heart is telling me the night is still young.

When I'm no longer struggling to catch my breath, I roll onto my side to find Katniss still panting, lips parted and eyes closed. Smiling, I lean in and rest my forehead against her temple. "You alright?"

The corner of her mouth lifts, a slow smile spreading across her flushed face. "Yes, and you?"

 _Fan-fucking-tastic_.

"I'm great." I reach across her body to play with one of her breasts, circling and scraping my thumb across her nipple. "Better than great."

Light caresses trace along my skin, up and down my thigh, but then pausing when her fingers brush against my new scar. She bolts up suddenly, her long hair tickling my side as she searches my face. "But your leg…are you sure you are alright? I was selfish and not thinking. Forgive me."

Grasping hold of her hand, I bring it to my lips and press a firm kiss to her palm. "I'm fine, I swear. I'll put up with a hell of a lot more pain than that if it means I get to be inside you again."

Katniss lowers her face to mine until our noses are pressed together. "That won't be necessary. I'm yours to take whenever you will have me."

"Is that a promise?" I ask, a playful lift to my voice as I reach over and snag hold of her waist. Before she can answer, I flip our bodies until she's positioned over me, her wild locks of hair curtaining around us as she straddles my hips. And true to her word, she lets me take her again.

After the third time, when we're both completely wrung out and spent, I tug her into my chest and pull the sleeping bag up over our naked bodies. Her head settles on my shoulder and I can't fight back my smile at the way she's careful not to poke my eye out with her antlers.

Staring up at the ceiling, I trace a finger up the bumps of her spine. "Can I ask you something?" She murmurs a muffled "mmhmm" against my skin. "I hope you don't think I'm being offensive and feel free to tell me off if you want but, may I touch your crown?"

Katniss snorts. "After what we've shared, you can touch any part of me you wish." She scoots back a little and tilts her head, allowing me room to explore.

I'm a little hesitant as I reach for the antler closest to me, lightly gliding a finger along one of the points. It's hot to the touch with a light covering of fine hairs, not what I was expecting at all. Tracing my finger down to where the antler sprouts from her head, she suddenly shudders and I stop, pulling my hand away. "Did that hurt?"

"No, but they are sensitive." With a reassuring smile, she snuggles back into me, resting her face on my shoulder. "I am told that is a sign that they will soon shed."

"That quick, huh?" Katniss just shrugs, skating her fingers along my ribcage.

We lie in comfortable silence for a long while, just soaking in each other's presence. In this state, I can almost forget about the world around us. Before the depressing thoughts of our uncertain future can take root, I banish them from my mind and focus on the here and now.

Satiated and content, a thought comes to me, something I've been wondering about but never thought to ask before. I recall how primitive societies back on Earth made do with a broad understanding of the passage of time, their only two measurements of time being the two constants in the sky. I've already determined the length of a day on this planet and based on the rate of the changing moon, months are much shorter here.

"Katniss?"

"Hmm?" She leans up on an elbow but makes no attempt to untangle our legs from underneath the furs.

"How old are you?" Her mouth opens to answer, but then she stops. Wincing, Katniss reaches up to touch the base of one of her antlers. "You okay?" I ask, cupping her face in my hand.

"Yes, I am fine. It was only a minor pain, but it has passed." She shakes her head, then smiles.

Katniss reaches over my body, her fingers searching for something on the floor. Sitting up, she repositions the sleeping bag over her lap and starts brushing out her hair with a comb carved from bone. "I was born under the hunter's sky. That same sky has passed eighteen times since I was born, so it has been eighteen annums."

"Is that how you keep track of time? By the stars?" She nods. "And how many times does the moon cycle before you see those same stars again?"

"Fourteen."

"And how many days for a new moon to appear?"

"About twenty-five."

Although math was never a favorite subject of mine, I've always had a way with numbers, so doing the rough calculations in my head, eighteen years here equate to about twenty years by Earth's standards. I stroke the hair dangling between her shoulder blades as I do the calculations over again in my head just to be sure.

"How old are you?" she asks when she's finally satisfied with her hair, quirking an eyebrow.

"Back on Earth I'd be just over twenty years old, but here, I think we'd be around the same age."

With a smile, she tosses the comb back onto the floor and sinks back into my embrace, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. I should be tired, but I'm anything but. I'm wired. The fire is on its last legs, almost completely burned out by the time Katniss finally dozes off, and I'm still stroking her hair as my mind drifts to replay the events of the day.

After what feels like hours later, my eyes flutter shut and I'm just about to give in to sleep when a faint beep pulls me back to the edge of consciousness. The sound is so out of place and weak that I'm doubting I heard anything in the first place, but then I hear it again and whip my head towards the sound. Curious, I carefully extract my arm from under Katniss's head and reach over to find my pack.

Pulling out the HOLO, I swipe the screen and wait. The image comes to life a few seconds later. There's a blinking blue dot not more than two miles away, but it isn't moving. _That's odd_. The drones should be miles from here, still mapping out the terrain, but maybe this one got turned around and stuck on something. The longer I stare at it, the more my conscience needles me, reminding me of my mission and why I was sent here to begin with.

Blowing out a long breath, I make a decision. I have to check it out, but without Katniss knowing. Then after this, I'm done. The chances of anyone coming for me are slim to none. Having no communication with my ship since my arrival, plus with my POD exploding, they probably think I'm dead. And with twelve other habitable planets to choose from, the odds of rescue aren't looking too good. Not that I find myself _wanting_ to be rescued. I need to focus on carving out a new future, one that involves this planet as my new home and the woman sleeping soundly next to me as a permanent fixture in my life.

As I power down the HOLO, I glance back over at Katniss and grin. The corner of the sleeping bag drapes over her stomach and thighs, allowing me an enticing view of her tanned limbs sprawled out over the furs. If it wasn't for the yawn I struggle to fight back, I'd be tempted to take her a fourth time.

Tomorrow. I'll check out the drone tomorrow, and then? I'm going to tell her the truth. The whole truth.

* * *

Something grazes the underside of my chin, rousing me from my blissful sleep. Unlike my first few nights here, I know exactly where I am the moment I come to. When the warm body next to me shifts, I pull Katniss to me and nuzzle my face into her hair, breathing in deeply the smell that is uniquely her. A few strands of hair tickle my nose, but when I reach up to brush them from my face, something is different. Blinking my eyes open, I take in Katniss's sleeping form and freeze.

 _What the…shit._ Her antlers. They're gone. Well, not _gone_ gone, they're sitting on the floor less than foot away from the bed. I tilt my head to get a better look at her head, worried I'll find her surrounded by a pool of blood or something, but there's nothing. It's like they just fell off painlessly during her sleep. Careful not to jostle her too much, I reach a hand over to graze my fingers against her scalp. There's just a smooth if not slightly firm patch where each of her antlers was once attached.

It's a little weird, seeing her like this…almost human. With her slightly pointed ears, she looks like one of the fairies in the children's books my father used to read to me before bed. No, not a fairy, but my own Wood Spirit in the flesh. Which fittingly enough, would make me her Fallen Star. I smile at the irony and shake my head as I stifle a yawn.

Leaning down, I brush a kiss on her head, over the bare spot closest to me, and she answers with a gentle sigh. Watching Katniss sleep may have just become my new favorite hobby. My heart clenches at just how achingly beautiful she is, but I need to get up. Now is the perfect time to sneak out and find that drone if I want to be back before she wakes.

After placing a soft kiss to her lips, I whisper "I love you" into the crook of her neck so as not to wake her. Carefully, I extricate myself from the bed and locate my clothes. My eyes fall on my chain, the metal of my ident tag catching what little light is left from the dying embers of the fire. On the off chance she wakes before I return, I don't want her to panic, but it's not like I can just leave her a note. Picking up the chain, I clench it against my chest then set it down on the pillow next to Katniss's sleeping face. With one final glance at her, I shoulder my pack and as quiet as possible, sneak out of the cave.

The sun has barely poked its head up over the horizon and once I'm a fair distance away, I pull out the HOLO and scarf down a protein bar as I wait for it to boot up. The beacon from the drone is still blinking and in the same spot from last night. It doesn't take long to track it down with the help of the HOLO, and when I do, it turns out I was right.

Dangling above in the branches, I spot the drone. It's caught in a snare similar to one that Katniss uses. Luckily, it's one I've become familiar with and I know how to wrangle it down. I set my pack on the ground and search for a long enough stick to pull the drone down. It takes a few tries, but once I have it down, I start to untangle it from the net of thin vines.

The drone isn't too badly damaged. Once I have it out it should be able to restart itself and be on its way. I've almost got it free when the sound of a branch breaking behind me catches my attention.

"Katniss?" I say, but when I turn, I have only a brief moment to register the butt end of a bow careening towards my face before my world goes dark.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So I hope no one comes after me with pitchforks for that ending, but hopefully the first part made up for it :) I really hope you liked this chapter. I've been waiting to post it for some time now so I'd love to hear your feedback!

A fun fact I came across while researching for this chapter:

\- Back to the topic of female reindeer and their antlers, they retain their antlers until the spring because access to food (and protecting it against other reindeer) is important during their winter pregnancy. Not all females have antlers though because growing them takes a lot of energy. If food is scarce in certain areas or of poor quality, most females will be antlerless. I'd like to think that in this story, females would start losing their antlers when they became sexually active because now their bodies are conserving energy and preparing for growing babies

Thank you so much to my amazing beta team, _**court81981**_ and _**titaniasfics**_ , and to _**loving-mellark**_ for pre-reading and for gifting me with the amazing banner and gorgeous fanart specifically for this chapter (check it out on my tumblr).

You can find me on tumblr anytime: _**pookieh**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated "M" for language and specifically for this chapter, for sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

* * *

"Wake up."

Even in my state of semi-consciousness, the smarting sting of a palm making contact with my cheek is all too familiar. When I fully come to, gasping and sputtering from the metallic taste that now coats the inside of my mouth, I can't see a thing. Blood is roaring in my ears and blinking rapidly, my eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness.

My hands are tied behind my back, bracing me to some sort of pole or stake. Panic settles in the pit of my stomach and acting on pure instinct, I fight against the restraints, pulling and tugging until they cut into my skin. Struggling is useless, I know, but that doesn't stop me from giving my hands one more hard tug.

Nothing happens of course, and for a split second, I'm paralyzed with fear. But then frustration and anger hit hard as my eyes finally adjust. It's a tough pill to swallow, accepting that I'm not going anywhere, the reality of the situation reducing me to a frustrated roar. Not feeling much better after my outburst, I count backward from ten as I take in my surroundings. Scattered rays of light filter in through a crack in the wall...no, not a wall, but a flap. I'm in a tent.

Feet shuffle against the dirt floor behind me, and it's only then I remember I'm not alone. A figure shrouded in darkness circles around to my front and I finally get a good look at my attacker.

"Where am I?" I manage, the rawness of my own voice startling.

The man in front of me is tall and lean, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. He's young, about my age from the looks of it, and glowering down at me with his arms crossed tight over his chest. More movement behind him catches my eye. There's someone else here, another man, older though, with long scraggly hair and a face that's been marred by time and the elements. Both are without antlers, but their pointed ears and clothing are telltale signs that these are Katniss's people.

Neither of them answers my question though. So looking slowly back and forth between them, I try again through gritted teeth, "Where am I?"

The older one tilts his head, studying me with squinty eyes and pursed lips. The younger one, well, he just looks plain pissed.

"Did you hurt her?" the younger one accuses, taking a threatening step closer to tower over me. "Where are you keeping her? Is she alive?"

"Who?" I ask, making sure to look him straight in the eye. Maybe it's just the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but I'm not the least bit scared of this asshole, even when he deliberately palms the handle of the blade tucked into his belt.

"Katniss," he hisses, baring his teeth. "If you have hurt her, I will kill you."

"Gale," the older one says, clasping a hand on his shoulder to pull him back. "Calm yourself."

The younger one, Gale, he doesn't budge. Instead, he widens his stance, planting his feet in place. He towers over me like a tree, staring me down with eyes that, startlingly enough look a lot like Katniss's. He must be part of her herd. Related maybe? A cousin? But I don't recall her mentioning any family that she may have left behind. Glancing at the older man, I find the same grey eyes staring back at me as well. Interesting.

Gale takes a step closer and crouches, giving me the chance to scan his hardened features. "I will ask you once more, and choose your words carefully for they may be your last," he says, a little quieter this time but by no means any less menacing. "Where is Katniss?"

Call me stupid, but if this guy wants me to talk, making threats against my life isn't going to get him anywhere. My lips are sealed shut when it comes to Katniss and the whereabouts of the cave. If she doesn't want her own people knowing where she is, I'm not about to let anyone else in on her secret.

I sigh, long and loud as if I'm actually debating whether or not I'll give him an answer. But then I let my shoulders slump and lower my gaze to the dirt.

"Fuck off," I mutter, but when Gale leans in closer to hear, he's already fallen for the oldest trick in the book. My forehead connects with his face with a satisfying _crunch_ and he stumbles backward clutching his nose, raging and cursing in words I've only heard Katniss use before.

"You _havier_!"

No clue what he's talking about, but I'm sure it's not a glowing compliment on my aim. I have a feeling I've been called worse, and despite the throbbing of my head, I smirk. Bracing for retaliation from the older man, I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth and relax my jaw. No need for shattered teeth if I can avoid it…but nothing comes. Risking a peek, I find the older man chuckling to himself as he nudges the younger one with his boot.

"You deserved that, you hot-headed _hart_."

"You drunk bastard." Gale takes a swing at the older man's legs, but he dances away before taking the hit. When Gale lifts his head, I get a good look at the damage. Blood is streaming down from his nose but unfortunately, nothing looks out of place. "He broke my nose!" he seethes.

"If he did, it is a vast improvement to your face." The older man grins and finally directs his beady gaze back to me. "I apologize for this one's behavior." He gestures to Gale who's still sulking off to the side as he gingerly probes his nose.

I keep silent though, leveling the man with a bored look.

Rubbing his jaw, he crouches in front of me but keeps a safe distance from the swing radius of my head. "You are lucky it was Gale who found you first, and not one of Alma's men."

I snort. _Lucky?_ Yeah right. It's only lucky he got the drop on me first. This Gale character may have me by a few inches, but a higher center of gravity can be a bitch, especially when I know how to throw my weight around.

"You are not one of us," he continues, tilting his head as he gives me a thoughtful look. "Or from the other herds. Tell me, where are you from?"

Again, I keep silent.

"I understand if you are hesitant to speak with us, but if you do not provide the answers we are seeking, then I am afraid we will have to seek them elsewhere. If you continue with your vow of silence, I would imagine the elders will want Katniss brought in for questioning." The older man blows out a long breath as he scrapes a thumb across his grizzly stubble. "And knowing her, she would not come in without a fight."

Anger, dread, and disbelief all vie for my attention at the thought of anyone laying a hand on Katniss. He's bluffing. He has to be. If they knew where we were this entire time, I'd have been hauled off to the village elders weeks ago. Something's not adding up.

I search the old man's face for any hint of deception, but his expression is frustratingly blank. There's a possibility he's baiting me, which makes me wonder if I'm really the one he's interested in, or if it's Katniss that he really wants. But why? What would he want her for? No, I'm the one they're after. But then why am I sitting here chitchatting with these idiots instead of the elders themselves? And now I'm running my thoughts around in circles as doubt takes root in the back of my mind like an unchecked weed.

Teeth gritted, I stare up at the old man and then jerk my head in a sharp nod. "Alright, I'll talk. But only if you leave Katniss out of this. Understand?"

Nodding, the man lifts up his hand, his palm facing outward to me. "My word that no harm will come to the girl. She has suffered enough at the hands of the elders. Now, where are you from?"

Regardless of how I answer, there's a good chance they mean to kill me. If they find out who I really am—or rather, _what_ I am—I probably won't make it past today. From the way the old man's been eyeing my jacket, he's rightfully suspicious, so lying probably won't do me any favors. But if I tell the truth, or at least part of the truth, it might just buy me some time. Enough time to figure out a way to…to...oh _hell_ , what I am thinking? They're going to fucking kill me no matter what I say.

Gale is still hunched over off to the side, pinching his nose to stanch the blood flow, but his attention is focused solely on me, eyes burning with hate. I have no doubt he'll take all too much pleasure in beating the shit out of me the first chance he gets. Whatever, he can go ahead and try, but I'm not going down without a fight.

Tearing my gaze back to the old man who's now taken an interest in the hide patch on my thigh, I clear my throat. His eyes dart up to mine. "My ship crash landed here."

"We already knew that," Gale says as he gets to his feet, looking a little bit smug.

My eyes narrow. In the back of my mind, I was kind of hoping the blowing snow would have taken care of that and covered up my tracks. Apparently not. "You found the crash site? Was there anything left to—"

"What is the name of your mothership?" the older one cuts in, completely ignoring my question.

My mouth opens to answer, but then a split second later my brain catches up and I seal my lips shut. How the hell does this guy know what a mothership is, let alone care about its name? Something flashes in his beady eyes, a wariness hinting that he's seen things, which sends a sinking feeling deep into the pit of my stomach.

He knows. He knows exactly what I am and where I came from. Which of course makes me wonder what else does he know? And what about the elders? Do they know? What secrets have they been hiding?

It's a struggle to keep calm, but I somehow manage, tamping down the panic rising in my chest. I need to clear my head and think this through a bit more but given my current circumstances, that's not exactly an option. Time isn't exactly on my side either.

My instincts tell me not to cross this man, and given the fact that he already knew what I was before I woke and didn't take me directly to the elders has me pondering his motive. Does he not trust them? Does he plan on using me as a bargaining chip? Maybe that earlier smack to the head has messed with my logic, but a crazy part of me thinks I might actually be able to trust this guy.

Fuck it. I need to know what's going on and what he's is up to, so it seems I have no other choice but to play along. "I'm from the ship Panem-12."

"What is your mission?"

"Observe."

"For what purpose?"

I risk a glance over at Gale to see if he too is in on whatever this is, but he's staring at the older man like he's just sprouted two heads.

Exhaling an even breath, I sit up a bit taller. "Potential colonization."

The old man stares back at me but doesn't say a word, his calculating gaze drifting to something on the floor. _Damn it_. My pack. It looks untouched, but that doesn't mean shit.

Eventually, Gale moves closer, glaring at me again. "What does he mean?"

I keep my mouth shut and ignore him, but look over at the other man who's now staring off into space. "Listen," I start, gaining his attention once more. "Something tells me you know more than you're letting on. My people—"

"How many this time?" the old man snarls.

Warning sirens go off in my head as I stare into the man's tense face. _This_ time? Yeah, that important bit of information didn't slip past me. The wheels turning in my head go into overdrive. This guy can't be more than forty years old—forty-five tops—which can only mean one of two things. Either he's hiding some very important historical information that the elders may or may not know about...or there's another explanation—one that sends a chill down my spine. What if I'm not the first human he's seen before? And if that's the case, then _holy shit_.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what this could potentially mean, but then again, maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions.

"How many?" he repeats, more firmly.

I swallow, my mouth dry, but I somehow manage to find my voice. "A little over thirteen thousand, but you should know my people believe I'm dead. I'm almost certain they've abandoned me here, so there's a very good chance no one is coming for me."

Gale sneers, stepping between us and putting his back to me as he waves a hand in the air. "Of course more of them will come, but what is he talking about? What do they want?"

"His people are wanderers," the old man finally says, shifting his attention back to Gale. "They come seeking a new home."

I drop my head and inhale a deep breath. His answer should have surprised me, but it didn't. My instincts told me from the beginning that this man knows things. But how? And who else does? Are these elders I keep hearing so much about in on it too?

I'm just about to ask the one question that's burning on the tip of my tongue when pulling the blade from his belt, Gale spins around and points it straight at my face. "He cannot be trusted! He is a threat we must dispose of!" He takes another threatening step closer and my body tenses, ready to dodge as best I can whatever attack he throws my way.

"No, he is not," the other man says and I sense the tension in the air shift.

Gale halts, his face contorted in disgust. "You believe him? Have you lost your head, you old _bull_? He is lying! I saw the flying creature that he was trying to set free from my snare. He was sent here as a spy and the longer we keep him here, allowing him to spin his web of lies, the greater risk he is to us all!" Leaning in, Gale grabs hold of the front of my jacket and presses the jagged blade against my throat. "Allow me to rid us of this threat once and for all before he can—"

Strangely enough, he cuts off mid-sentence, his attention drawn to something behind me.

"Lay a hand on my mate once more, Gale, and I will shoot you between the eyes."

Eyes wide, my heart stops at the sound of her voice. If it weren't for the blade still at my neck, I'd be checking for myself to make sure I'm not hearing things.

Katniss is here. She came for me.

Stupid, stupid girl, risking her _life_ coming after me. I want to scream at her to run, to leave me behind and get as far away from here as possible. I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her senseless. But first, we need to find a way out of here, and the sooner the better.

Gale inches back, taking his blade with him. His features soften as the hatred in his eyes gives way to something else. Something akin to longing that causes my insides to clench as I grit my teeth.

"Katniss, what are you…" His words die in his throat once again as he continues to stare.

Craning my neck, I finally chance a look over my shoulder. There she is, fierce and wild and so beautiful my chest aches. And she's not lying. She's got an arrow notched and aimed right at the younger man's face.

But then something she said finally sinks in, leaving me speechless as I try to wrap my head around what she's just called me—her _mate._ It takes me a few moments longer to finally clue into what both men are staring at. Damn, without those antlers, there's no hiding or denying what happened between us last night.

I sneak a glance at Gale and the guy looks pissed. No, not pissed but fuming. Seething mad. "What do you mean, your _mate_?" he grinds out between clenched teeth. "What did he do to you?!"

"You heard me," she says, pulling her bowstring tighter as she takes another step closer. "He is mine."

"You are telling me you have willingly tied yourself to this…this, stranger?" Taking a step closer, the toe of his boot comes in contact with my thigh, a not so gentle nudge that's sure to leave a bruise. "Have you lost your head?"

"No," she says, "but _you_ will if you touch him again." Her attention shifts to the older man and her scowl deepens. "And _you_ , Haymitch...my father said I could trust you! That of all the herd, you would be the only one who would keep my secrets and protect me. And this is what you do? Steal him away from me?"

Shoving the younger man aside, the older one steps closer, brandishing a blade of his own from beneath his furs. I tense as he approaches, his mouth set in a grim line but then he ducks behind me and I cry out in relief when the ties binding my hands fall to the ground. I fall forward, barely catching myself on my elbows before I'm splayed out on the ground with a mouth full of dirt.

All I can do is lay there as I wait for circulation to return, pressing my lips together hard when it comes flooding back to my arms and legs in bolts of fiery pain. I instruct my body to roll over onto my side.

"What are you doing!" Gale shouts.

"You heard her, he is her mate. If that is so, he is not our enemy. He is one of us."

"You cannot believe this madness, can you?"

Gesturing to the empty space above Katniss's head with one hand, the older man tucks his blade back into his furs with the other. "Are you as blind as you are ignorant? They are mated, it is done."

Half listening to the conversation going on around me, I test my fingers and toes, the tingling sensation starting to ebb as Katniss moves to take a protective stance over my body.

"You knew about this? About him?" Gale asks, but by his clenched teeth and furrowed brow, it's more of a demand.

Haymitch frowns, but doesn't look at all remorseful. "Not that it is any of your business, but yes, I did."

Even though my head feels like it's been clamped in a vise for a week, both Katniss's and Haymitch's words slowly filter through my addled thoughts and things start to make a little more sense. That has to be why he knows about my people. Katniss must have told him everything, but when? And why did no one come for me?

I'm starting to think there's more going on around here, something bigger than what either Katniss or I thought.

"Your father and I had an understanding," Haymitch says to Katniss. "I would never break my vow to him, which is why I have not harmed him nor did I ever intend to. I only wished to gain information. He on the other hand," he says, jutting his chin towards Gale, "does not listen well."

Gale finally backs away, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. He turns to Katniss. "Did he force himself on you? Is that it? Is it out of shame that you are doing this?"

Katniss snorts. "Do not insult me. _You_ are the one who has lost his senses. And if you must know, _I_ am the one who claimed _him_."

Gale doesn't answer, just continues to stare at her with that same stubborn scowl. She must come to the same conclusion as me, that she's not going to get anywhere with the guy, so she turns her attention back to the older man instead. "Haymitch, please, you must let us go. You know what he is and therefore the fate that awaits him if he is turned over to the elders."

With a ragged sigh, he gives her a sharp nod. "Go then."

"This is madness!" Gale blurts out, all heads turning in his direction as he takes a step towards us, but then he must think better of it and retreats to the back of the tent. "I said I would come for you, that when we had accomplished our goal that you could return. All I asked of you was to wait," he says, his hardened voice now laced with raw pain. "You were to be mine."

I swallow thickly, finally feeling like the outsider I really am. Is what he's saying true? That he and Katniss are supposed to be together? I'd be lying if I said that didn't sting just a bit. I tilt my head up to search her face but she's not looking at me.

Lowering her bow and arrow, Katniss releases a heavy breath and when she speaks, all the venom is gone from her voice. "Gale, we both know that the day I turned my back on this herd, any understanding that was once between us was severed. The years away hardened my heart, but not anymore." It's then that she finally glances down at me, the corner of her mouth softening into the tiniest of smiles. "He brought me back to life."

A wave of relief rushes over me and I return her smile. She called me her mate, which in her world means forever. My eyes drift down to the chain around her neck, following it to my ident tags dangling against her chest. Now it all makes sense. Even though it was meant as a promise that I would return, I'm not at all disappointed in the misunderstanding.

"I do not wish to return to the village," she continues, turning her attention back to Gale. "But if there is any love or respect for me left in your heart, you will let us go."

Her words must reach him on some level, and as she drops down to one knee to cradle my chin in her trembling hand, turning my face this way and that to assess my wounds, I keep my eyes trained on Gale. He's staring at Katniss, the pain and longing in his eyes so obvious you'd have to be blind not to see it.

As unjustified as it is at the moment, my chest tightens again and a familiar feeling from before resurfaces. Jealousy seems to override my sense of logic and like some wild animal marking its territory, I curl an arm around her waist and pull her in closer, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

"Katniss, I'm alright," I say, but the pained look on her face says otherwise. Brushing back the loose hairs that have escaped her braid, I smile. "You came for me. Thank you."

Releasing a shaky breath, she presses her forehead to mine. "Of course I did, but you do not thank me for coming for you. It is what we do, we protect each other. But we need to go now. Can you walk?"

"I think so." I flex my fingers and toes, but my limbs protest when I struggle to roll onto my hands and knees. Forcing my muscles to comply, I manage to get up on one knee, but then Katniss is there to help me up the rest of the way.

"Where will you go?" Gale asks, his voice surprisingly calm.

Slinging my arm around her neck, Katniss pulls me close to steady my body. "Does it matter?"

"What of the council, then? What will they say when they come for him and find him gone?"

Katniss whips her head around, fire in her eyes as her grip on my waist tightens almost to the point of pain. "You told them? How could you!"

Clearing his throat, Haymitch steps in. "We do not have time for this, all that matters is that you take him far from here. If anyone comes looking, then we say he got away. Used his magic to distract us. You know the elders, those grizzly old arses will believe anything when it comes to the star people."

Easing up her hold, I sink back onto my knees, wincing from the throbbing of my thigh. I need to give myself a few more minutes, considering my legs still don't want to cooperate just yet. But we don't have a few minutes, for all we know, they could be coming for me as we speak.

"What of the reaping?" Gale says, the anger and frustration in his voice surfacing once again. "We have less than a month. What of the next innocent child that will have to sacrifice their life for no reason? Why must more blood be shed when we have a way to put a stop to it all right here?"

"And you think _his_ blood is not just as innocent?" Katniss spits, nodding her head in my direction.

Placing a hand on Gale's shoulder, the older man draws him in closer. "Calm yourself. If what he says is true, his people may be here soon enough. We have to prepare for their arrival and believe me, either way, change is on the horizon. I swear to you, not another innocent life will be lost for the sake of the elder's ignorance."

Fists curled at his sides, Gale finally backs away with a sharp nod. He stalks to the entrance and lifts the flap of the tent just a little to peek out.

I swipe my hand across my mouth, wiping away the taste of sweat and blood. "You have a plan for getting out of here?"

Glancing away from Haymitch, Katniss tilts her head in confusion. "I plan to walk out of here, how about you?"

If this is an attempt at humor, she's got shit timing. "What about guards? Are we just going to walk right past them unnoticed?"

"We are not in the village," she says, looping my pack around her neck and cutting a glare to Gale. "This is a shelter the hunting parties once used, but it has long since been abandoned. There is no one else."

Oh, well then, that explains that. The tingling in my legs has started to dissipate, my hopes rising that we'll be out of here soon. But even when I'm mobile again, I won't be good for much else. "What if we run into trouble?" I ask.

Haymitch considers this a moment, turning my words around in his head. Then out of nowhere, the old bastard throws a punch, his bony knuckles catching the edge of my jaw. _Son of a bitch!_ Good thing I'm already on the ground, or else he'd have put me there in a heartbeat.

"Sorry about that," he says, shaking out his hand. "But it is for your own good."

"His own _good_?" Katniss shoves Haymitch aside and reaches for me. "You have gone mad!"

"If you are stopped, that bruise will say he fought to escape. You can say you caught him and are returning him to us."

"That is your plan?" Katniss scowls. "It is a terrible one."

Haymitch simply shrugs. "Then do not get caught." He presses three fingers to his lips, then raises them. "Go now, and may the Great Spirit be with you."

"Thank you," she says, nodding to him. "And with you."

Chuckling, Haymitch shakes his head. "No, thank _you_. When the elders sent you away, it set many things in motion." He pauses, but then the features of his face turn serious. "But I am sorry it was at the cost of your sister. Know that her death was not in vain." He unfastens his furs and tosses them to us. "Here, I have a feeling he will be needing this more than me."

Pulling the cape around me, I can tell Katniss is struggling to keep her composure. I pull her closer to me and with one final glance back at the old man, I nod. "Thank you." Katniss lifts the flap of the tent and peers out, but just as we're about to leave, I hesitate. No matter what these people think of me or how different they are, they don't deserve the fate that awaits them if the ships actually arrive.

Turning to face the old man, I swallow the lump in my throat. "If my people come, do not trust the man called President Snow. There is a woman in his council, Commander Paylor. She is your best chance for peace."

Haymitch nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will remember that." He slides his gaze over to Katniss and gives her a tight smile. "And Katniss?" There's a hesitation in the tense set of his mouth, but then he sighs deeply as if he's finally resolved himself to something. "If you seek the truth, it lies beyond the _Tundar_."

I don't have time to ponder his ominous parting words as Katniss drags me out of the tent, back into the safety of the woods. I go on autopilot as we creep through the trees, over fallen branches and roots, through the dense canopy like shadows until we make it to the creek. From there, we take off as fast as we can, weaving through the trunks and underbrush. I don't know how long we run for, but eventually, the terrain turns rocky again and it begins to look familiar. The cave is only a few more minutes away now, yet we still don't stop for a break.

After heaving my dead-weight of a body into the confines of the cave, I'm on the floor, hands on my knees as I struggle to catch my breath. Katniss, however, is a whirlwind of activity, folding furs and shoving food and pouches into a large pack.

"Katniss," I wheeze, placing a hand on the wall to get to my feet. "Slow down a minute and talk to me." She doesn't stop to listen, breezing past me to riffle through her stash of knives and arrows.

Now that I've had a few minutes to organize my thoughts, hundreds of questions flood my mind, all of which the sane part of me is demanding answers to. One in particular is burning a hole through the tip of my tongue, so I grab hold of her shoulder and turn her towards me. "What in the _hell_ is going on? Who was that Haymitch guy? Why did you tell him about me? And what was all that about the truth and the _Tundar_?"

"They were an unlikely pair, him and my father." Her head and shoulders slump as she drops the pack to the floor. "I have memories from when I was a fawn of my father taking me into the woods where he taught me to track and use a bow. Back then, it never struck me as odd that Haymitch would always cross our path. He never stayed for long, the two of them sharing only a few hushed words as I searched for bones and feathers for my arrows. Then just as quickly as he appeared, Haymitch would stalk back into the trees without a word.

"Around the rest of the herd, they did not speak, only shared a sharp nod here or a tilt of the head there. I wanted to ask my father about it many times but held my tongue in fear that he would stop our lessons in the woods. Years passed before disorder amongst my people finally broke out. Many were unhappy with the elders and their ways, the reaping their biggest concern. One of the hunters, Alma, she gained a following of young warriors and had planned to overthrow the elders and their council."

My hand drops from her shoulder and I lead Katniss over to the bed, gesturing for her to take a seat. She goes willingly, but her body still vibrates with tension. "That's the second time I've heard that name before," I say, running a hand down her arm. "Haymitch mentioned something about how I should be thankful she didn't find me first."

"That is true. They live far from here, her and her following of outcasts. But the elders tolerate them, allowing them to patrol the village and the woods in exchange for food. But they are difficult to control and are known to shoot to kill before asking questions. If they had found you in that tree instead of Gale…"

She doesn't have to finish her sentence, we both know exactly where I'd be. "How did you find me?"

Katniss's face hardens and her eyes narrow. "You were gone when I awoke and I was furious, but then I found your necklace. I went after you immediately and when I found that unusual bird and the snare, I knew it was Gale who had taken you. After hiding the bird, I followed the trail to the hunting shelter."

"That wasn't a bird, it was a drone from my POD. It flies around on its own and takes pictures and then sends information about your world back to my people."

"It has been spying on us? Like the Jabberjays?"

I wince. The parallel she's drawn isn't too far off but since it doesn't exactly paint my people in a favorable light, I feel the need to explain. "We use them to gather information on unknown planets without interfering with the inhabitants. I promise you they can't harm anyone."

Katniss is quiet for a moment as she turns my words over in her head. "Why did you leave me? You promised never to leave me."

There's no missing the hint of hurt in her voice, so I take her hand in mine and brush my lips over her knuckles. "I'm sorry I scared you, but I was coming back. When I saw the drone was stuck, I thought if I just freed it that would be my last effort to help my people. I'm done now, they don't matter to me anymore. All that matters is you and whatever life lies ahead of us."

I release her hand in favor of caressing her cheek, still smudged with dirt and sweat. There's a small cut on her forehead where a few drops of blood have already crusted over, but I can't help from just staring at her. After all, we've been through today, she's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Her eyes shut as she leans into my touch and the deep breath she releases has me sighing in relief too.

"Did you mean what you said back there?" I ask?

"Hmm?"

"About me being your mate?"

Her eyes fly open, the apples of her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. "I did not want Gale to hurt you. It was the only way I could think to get him to let us leave. If I offended you with my lie, I am sorry."

"Hey," I say, turning her face back to me as she tries to look away. "No offense taken, and if I'm being honest, I don't mind one bit."

"You want to be my mate?"

"I'm all yours," I say, leaning in to capture her lips in a possessive kiss. "If you'll have me."

The smile she rewards me with makes my heart clench and so I kiss her again and again and again until her melodic laughter fills the cave. Then she's in my arms, face buried against my chest as we just hold each other for what feels like forever.

One of my hands moves to her back, gently stroking down the bumps of her spine as I try to take it all in. But there's something nagging at the back of my mind, something about that name... _Alma_.

"She is the reason," Katniss says as she pulls away, and it's then I realize I spoke the name aloud. "The reason I urged you not to leave the cave. She is calculating and clever, just like her mother, and every day I feared she would find you and take you away. I do not doubt she saw the remains of your POD, so I knew she would be looking for any sign of survivors."

"But you said she wants to overthrow the elders. What if we could persuade her to help us? We could still put a stop to the reaping."

"No, she is not someone you want to meet. Believe me, it is in no one's interest if that woman rises to power. For many years she has whispered false promises of unity and rebellion in the ears of parents and young men. If she were to get a hold of you and your knowledge, she'd use you to her advantage. She would play on the desperation of my people and bring you to the altar herself to sacrifice. Appease the Great Spirit and put an end to the reaping, but most importantly for her, remove the elders from power and put herself in their place." Katniss shakes her head again, her mouth set in a grim line. "Once in power, she would not hesitate to kill anyone who did not support her. There would be no survivors."

Something in my mind clicks into place and my hand on her back freezes. _No survivors_. Commander Alma Coin, captain of the infamous Panem-13. Maybe I'm grasping at straws here, but I can't help the impossible thoughts running through my head, no matter how illogical and far-fetched they are. Maybe it's all just some wild coincidence because the chances are a billion to one.

I clear my throat. "This Alma, is that a common name around here?"

Katniss gives me a funny look. "No, but she was named after her mother. Why?"

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "I'm probably just being paranoid." But Katniss wiggles further out of my arms, a determined look on her face.

"What is it?"

With everything else going on around us right now, this is probably the last thing we should be worrying about. Like Haymitch said, we need to get far away from here, regardless of whether my people are coming for me or not. I'd be an idiot not to take what happened today as a stern wake up call. In the safety of the cave, we've been living in a bubble so to speak. But not anymore.

Reluctantly, I release Katniss and get to my feet, picking up the discarded pack on the floor. "We should get going," I say, scanning the cave for my own pack.

"Tell me first what you were thinking."

"Fine, but keep packing as I talk, okay?" Thankfully Katniss relents and takes her pack from my hand. "Do you remember how I said after my ancestors left Earth, one of our ships was destroyed?" She nods as she riffles through the pouches that house her medicinal herbs. "The captain of that ship—the person in charge—her name was Alma. Alma Coin." Katniss freezes, then carefully places her pack back on the ground.

"Logic tells me that the Panem-13 was destroyed over fifty years ago and that there were no survivors. But...what if there were? There's a possibility that some of the escape PODs were deployed, and once you're in hypersleep, you could technically drift for decades. I'm no expert in space and time, but there have always been…theories."

Katniss stares at me like I'm a madman, and I don't blame her. Even I know I sound crazy.

I blow out a breath. "Listen, just forget I said anything, I'm probably just being—"

 _Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep._

Our conversation instantly forgotten, we both glance down at my arm where a line of blinking zeros stares back at us. _Shit_. Time's up.

In an instant I'm at the entrance to the cave, peeling back the woven blind and tilting my head up where I expect to find a fleet of ships descending on us from the sky. But that's ridiculous and there's nothing there except the usual clouds and birds hovering low just above the treeline.

Katniss approaches slowly, joining me by my side as she too searches the sky for anything unusual.

"It doesn't mean anything," I whisper to assure her, or rather myself, but I still don't take my eyes away from the sky. "It was just a countdown I set for myself, it doesn't mean anyone is here."

I glance over, taking in the furrow between her brow and the tense line of her mouth. Snaking my arm around her waist, I pull her into my side, grounding both of us.

"We need to get away from here," she whispers, eyes still trained on the sky.

"I gathered that much, but where would we go?"

"I...I do not know." She pauses. "Somewhere we can hide until your people come, then we can go to them."

And for the first time since I was taken hostage, I take a full breath. For now, we're safe, but I need to tell Katniss the truth. The whole truth. "We can't. We can't be anywhere near the rest of your people if mine arrive."

"But why? Will they not protect us?" I spot a flicker of panic cross her face before she schools her features. "They will harm us."

All the worries I had shoved to the back of my mind because I didn't want to go down that road come flooding back. Fear of what could happen to not me, but to Katniss.

"I don't know for sure, but it's not me I'm worried about. If they find out that we're together...that we've _been_ together, he'll take you from me. Do you understand?" By the way she's staring at me, she must think I'm delirious. "He'll want to study you, run tests on you. He'll keep us apart, use you any way he can to get your people to comply with his demands. And hell, if by some stroke of a miracle I've managed to get you _pregnant_?" The horrors of what could potentially become of Katniss sickens me, and so I pull her in closer. "I won't let him take you away from me."

"Who is _he_?"

"The man I warned Haymitch about, President Snow. Your people aren't the only ones ruled by a corrupt system."

As much as I want to believe that everyone on my ship has good intentions, we've been wandering space for far too long. Time and isolation do crazy things to people, and with the hope of finding a suitable planet to call home within arm's reach? My people would do and believe just about anything our current leader says to get off those blasted ships. Even massacre an entire race.

I'm starting to think Professor Heavensbee had it right when he said collective thinking is short lived, and that as a race, we humans are stupid and fickle creatures with poor memories and a great gift for destruction. Once on the ground, who's to say with superior technology and desperation to claim, that Katniss's people will be safe? If there's one thing I've learned from the history of our people, it's that if you give mankind an inch and they claim a whole goddamn planet.

Finally tearing her eyes away from the sky, Katniss tips her head back to stare up at me.

"Perhaps one day, when I know it's safe, we can come back," I say, trying to make this just a little bit easier for her.

"But where will we go?"

"What about on the other side of the mountain?"

" _Erimos_? No, no one has ever—"

"No, beyond that. What's on the other side of the other mountains?"

"I told you, I do not know. No one does."

I cock an eyebrow at her. "You sure about that? Haymitch said—"

"Haymitch is a drunk. It would not be wise to put much faith in his words."

"I need to show you something." Stepping away, I reach for my pack and pull out the HOLO. Motioning for her to come closer, she's hesitant at first, then kneels down next to me, eyes wide as the map comes to life and digitizes. "With this, we can make it to the other side of that snow desert."

Katniss is too busy staring at the map to say anything, mesmerized as she runs her hand through the lights.

This might possibly be the stupidest decision I've ever made, but hey, I'm running low on ideas. Over a hundred things could go wrong, but I decide to keep those thoughts to myself. If this is my best option, then so be it. There's no changing my mind. I have the HOLO, and with her knowledge of the land and skills of survival…it's not impossible. Insane, maybe, but I'm beginning to think insane ideas are my new thing.

And I know I'm being selfish, but for once in my life, I could care less. The last place Katniss and I need to be is in the middle of a civil war, let alone a potential planetary take over because from what I've learned about Katniss's people and their village, they really are no match for our technology and weapons. And what if her people were to put up a fight?

It's a good thing Katniss found me when she did. And I really am lucky it was Gale and Haymitch who found me. The last thing her people needed was mine finding me held hostage or worse, killed. It'd make things all too easy for President Snow to bypass the whole we-come-as-peaceful-refugees routine and move straight to operation domination.

Yeah, there's no question about it, we need to leave, and the clock is ticking.

Just to be on the safe side, I decide to turn off the tracking device in my suit. I watch the screen of the HOLO, waiting for the steady green dot to go out. A full minute passes but nothing happens. What the hell? I double check my suit and yep, the tracker is definitely off, which can only mean…there's another tracker. Patting down the front of my suit, I try to figure out what else could be sending out a signal, but then recall the shot they gave me just before takeoff. Feeling around on my forearm, my fingers find something hard just below the skin.

Vitamin shot my ass.

"What is it?" Katniss asks, coming closer and tracing her fingers over my arm. When I pull out my knife, she gasps. "No! What are you doing?"

"I need to get it out," I manage through gritted teeth.

With the point of the blade, I pierce the skin of my forearm, the tearing sensation excruciating as warmth starts to pool around the cut. I toss the knife aside and probe the area carefully until a tiny metallic bead pops to the surface. Catching it between my fingers, I hold it up to inspect it. _Damn it_. Probably another backup plan to locate my dead body. Not wanting to waste another minute, I toss it into the embers of the fire pit as Katniss patches up my arm.

From then on, we're both quiet as we quickly gather up the rest of our supplies. I've checked my pack three times over to make sure we have what we need, but what we need is to travel light. Satisfied, I watch as Katniss does the same and then fastens her furs around her neck.

"You ready?" I ask, surprised at how calm my own voice is.

Tense, I watch Katniss's throat work on a hard swallow, but then she nods. "Wherever you go, I go."

I pull her against me, tightening my arms around her as I soak up her warmth and breathe her in. If it wasn't for this brave and beautiful woman in front of me, I'd have died any one of a hundred deaths. It's because of her I'm alive and breathing. Now it's my turn to save her life, to keep her safe.

"Katniss, we can do this. As long as we're together, we can find a way." She silently nods again, but I'm not convinced my words are getting through to her. Her gaze, now anxious, continues to search my face. "Are you with me?"

There's no missing the fear lurking in her eyes, fear of the unknown. But there's no turning back, not when our destinies are now bound. Just when I'm about to throw in the towel and give up on this impossible plan, she takes hold of my face, tracing my lips with her thumbs. "Yes, always. Together?"

Covering her hands with mine, I smile. "Together."

With a tiny, yet hopeful smile, we're on the move again. Even though I've been here less than a month, that cave has felt like more of a home to me than my ship. Funny how that is, but I don't have time to dwell on the sense of loss. Our plan is to take the most discrete route possible, keeping a wide berth around the location of where the POD crashed.

We travel for hours, well into the night until Katniss finally convinces me that we need to rest. She finds a tree with a branch large enough to hold us both. It takes some careful maneuvering on my part, but once we're settled and securely hidden from view, I'm ready to shut my eyes and crash.

Katniss is snuggled tight against my chest but she's oddly quiet. She hasn't said much during our journey, but I'm not going to take it personally and push her to talk if she doesn't want to. We've been through enough today and there's really no need to rehash anything. Stroking the back of her head, I try to lull her to sleep as I gaze up at the stars overhead. Her breathing has almost evened out when something odd catches my attention.

The stars are moving.

But stars don't move…well, not that fast. Squinting harder, I blow out a harsh breath. Those aren't stars. Cursing out loud, Katniss startles and looks up. Her eyes follow my outstretched hand to the all too familiar blinking lights moving across the night sky.

"My people," I whisper, my body tensing as I let out a heavy breath. "They're here."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** First off, my profuse apologies for the long wait for this chapter. What can I say, real life just got a hold of me, but fingers crossed things start to slow down soon. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint and I'd love to hear your thoughts! Also, this is NOT the last chapter, as a few of you thought. I wouldn't leave you all hanging like that!

While writing this chapter, I came across a few things during my research:

\- I had a fun time trying to research swear words that Katniss's people would use, so the ones I settled on were "hart" which is an older term used for a male deer over five years of age but not an adult male, so like a teenager, and "havier" which is a castrated male…fitting as an insult, don't you think :P

Huge thanks to _**titaniasfics**_ for her wonderful and fast beta skills and to _**loving-mellark**_ for pre-reading and for her wonderful support during this entire time.

You can find me on tumblr anytime: _**pookieh**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** This fic is rated "M" for language and sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.

* * *

It takes twenty-six days. Twenty-six _long_ , exhausting days to cross that blasted desert of snow.

What doesn't take long is the realization that my brilliant plan of taking the most discrete route around the snow is useless. Four days are wasted traveling due south in hopes of skirting along the treeline towards the west. No such luck. We faced two options: waste more time in hopes that the desert would eventually let up, or say _to hell_ with the plan and chart a route due west, straight into the endless sea of white.

Katniss makes the decision for us, grumbling under her breath about "taking too long" before deliberately veering off track and out of the safety of the trees. With no choice but to follow, I manage to convince her to spare a few minutes to consult the HOLO and revise the plan.

Based on my initial calculations, we should be able to cross the 150-mile distance in just over two weeks, give or take a day or two if conditions prove favorable or, well, not in our favor. The latter proves true on more than one occasion, thanks to a few days when the snow is so thick, it forces us to stay put in one place for days until we can see more than a foot in front of us.

The nights are the worst when the wind is violent and relentless. Without the steady motion of our muscles to keep our limbs from freezing, we sleep huddled together, teeth chattering as we rely on my suit and sleeping bag to keep in the precious heat. Not that sleeping with Katniss in my arms would ever be considered a hardship, but lately, she's been restless. Muttering and startling herself awake throughout the night.

She says it's nothing, but the dark shadows beneath her eyes say otherwise. But I know better than to push her. If there's something she wants to tell me, she will. When she's ready.

Thankfully, there's been a bit of a reprieve over the past week when the terrain began to change. With each passing day, the snow lets up a little bit more. There's less of a bite in the bone-chilling wind which has a way of finding even the smallest of holes between the seams of my pants. Not even the massive fur from Haymitch helps. Despite my shuddering, I refuse to take back my jacket which Katniss has offered up numerous times. I have to admit, huddled up beneath it with the hem landing well past her hide-clad thighs, she looks pretty damn cute.

Snowmelt trickles from the mountains, meaning we no longer have to rely on melting snow ourselves to fill the canteen. It's one less thing to worry about, but by all means, not the last.

About an hour ago, we stumbled across a grouping of rocks and thick, thorny bushes that Katniss said would provide us with enough shelter from the wind and curious creatures. The perfect spot to set up camp. It couldn't have happened at a better time either, both of us dead on our feet as the sun slipped lower and lower towards the horizon.

Off in the distance, not more than a day's journey away, the mountains taper off to rolling hills and what looks to be a flat sea of brown. Those mounds are our goal for tomorrow, but until then, we both need a good night's sleep.

I dig away at the dirt for a hole to house our evening fire, watching Katniss from the corner of my eye as she checks over her selection of arrows, testing the tips with the pad of her thumb.

Not a single complaint has passed her lips since the day we left the cave, but it's obvious the journey has taken its toll. Not only on her spirits but her body too. I don't think I'm imagining it, but her face looks thinner, her cheekbones a little more prominent.

"Don't go too far," I warn, catching hold of her hand as she turns to leave.

She glances down at my fingers curled around hers and frowns. "Have you forgotten? This is my world. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, uncharted territory though."

Her features relax and she pacifies me with a gentle nod. She squeezes my hand and although I'm hesitant to let her out of my sight, I don't want to argue. After brushing a quick kiss on the back of her hand, she stalks into the shadows, away from the fading daylight.

So maybe I'm being a little paranoid, but can she really blame me? Katniss insists on clearing the area before we settle in each night. I'm well aware this is her planet, but since leaving the cave, we've come across a few creatures that even she's never seen before.

And just like every other night, I push aside my worries and go on autopilot, surveying our campsite and updating our inventory of diminishing supplies. The wind has died down considerably and I have a feeling we might be able to forgo my heavy fur for the night, so instead, I stretch it out over the flat spot I've cleared of rocks and pebbles for our bed.

Twenty minutes later, Katniss is back—thankfully in one piece—with an ugly looking creature in tow. She holds it up by the tail, grinning from ear to ear and allowing me a better look at the thing. Oh, it's ugly all right, a big rodent looking thing with a fuzz of mottled gray fur and two wicked-looking teeth protruding over its lower lip. All appearances aside, the thing looks to be well fed…on what, I'd rather not know.

"Can we eat him?" I ask.

"I am not sure…" She trails off, inspecting the animal and poking it with the tip of her hunting blade. "We do not have these back home, but it looks like a creature I used to hunt. We will need to cook him first, though."

I'm already on it, gathering dried leaves and sticks and tossing them into a pile. I haven't tasted fresh meat in weeks. The last of the protein bars were exhausted two nights ago, along with the dried berries and nuts that Katniss packed for the journey. We've been able to supplement our daily rations with foraged greens and roots, but it's not the sustenance my grumbling belly craves.

"Here," Katniss continues, pulling a handful of orange roots from her pack.

"Are they safe to eat?" Before I can process her actions, she nips the tip of a root and crunches away. "What the hell are you doing?!" Jumping to my feet, I rush towards her. "Spit that out now!"

But she's already swallowing before I reach her. I watch in horror as she just stands there, looking at me like _I'm_ the crazy one.

"Tastes sweet," she mumbles.

"It could kill you!" I knock the rest of the roots from her hand and pull her against me, my eyes frantically searching our supplies. We need water. And the first-aid kit. I'll shove my whole hand down her throat if that's what it takes to get her to throw up.

"Calm yourself. It is safe."

I pull away, searching her face for any signs of sweat or blotchiness. Her pupils appear normal, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. "How do you know it's safe?"

"When I found him," she pauses to lift up the dead animal, "he was eating them."

I'm only mildly placated by the information. So maybe it won't kill her, but it could sure make her sick. Frowning, I look her straight in the eye. "Don't do that again, you hear me?" She's frowning now too, but she must catch the fear in my voice because her face softens.

Pressing my forehead against hers, I try to get a handle on my racing pulse. "I can't lose you," I eventually whisper.

The dead rodent drops to the ground and she wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my shirt. I can feel the press of her lips against my chest, her fingers stroking back and forth across my shoulder blades. We stay like that in each other's arms until some of my anger fades. I know our food choices are limited, but still, I can't believe she'd take such a risk. After everything we've been through, I'd hope she'd—

"I am sorry," she murmurs. "I did not mean to frighten you." She presses a kiss to the spot over my heart, then tilts her head back to lock her eyes with mine. "You will not lose me."

Releasing a heavy breath, I shut my eyes. Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard. Maybe the nights of shitty sleep and the gnawing emptiness in my belly have finally caught up with me. Or maybe I'm just tired of running. Running away from what, I'm not sure of anymore. But now is not the time to think about it, we need a fire and food in our stomachs in order to get my head back on straight.

"I'm sorry for overreacting." I pull away, wanting to say more, but instead press a kiss to her lips. When I finally open my eyes, she rewards me with a smile and then nods. And just like that, all is forgiven.

"We should eat," Katniss says, echoing my earlier thoughts.

Surprisingly, I've become a whiz with fires, coaxing a flame out of the few damp pieces of wood I was able to find. By the time I have a decent blaze going, Katniss has the carcass skinned and skewered on one of her arrows and the orange roots wrapped in leaves. The leaves go into the coals while the meat roasts over her makeshift spit. All the while, neither of us says a word, both waiting until the juices stop trickling from our dinner indicating the meat is done.

Katniss packs half away, leaving us with two roots and a leg each to fill our aching bellies. I have to admit, the meat is better than I expected and surprisingly juicy. A little charred from cooking it longer than usual (just to be safe) but a hell of a lot more appetizing than a protein bar. As I swallow down my last bite, it's then that I realize darkness has fallen.

With the distraction of hunger satiated, we silently stare into the flames, a testament to just how exhausted we both are. Neither of us has enough energy to do more than just sit and get lost in our own thoughts, but then, Katniss breaks the silence.

"Have you seen more lights?"

I shake my head.

The night we saw the lights in the sky, a part of me didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to accept the truth that my people had come for me. But what we saw was too big and moved too slow to be one of the exploratory hovercrafts. No, it was a single Panem-class cruiser, which could only mean one thing: something up there has gone terribly wrong.

But what? Mutiny? An epidemic? Catastrophic failure? Only something to that extent would cause the fleet to separate.

We'd watched the lights until they disappeared over the treetops, far off into the distance. Where they landed, I'm not exactly sure, but it wasn't anywhere close to where my POD crashed. Of that I'm sure. Neither of us was able to sleep for hours afterward, too busy waiting to see if more lights would appear.

None did.

Every night since, we've kept an eye out on the night sky. If any more ships were to come, it'd be under the cover of darkness. I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary yet, so either they arrived while we were asleep or there's truth to that gut feeling of mine that won't let up.

"Will more come?" Katniss asks when I'm quiet for far too long.

As much as I want to reassure her that everything will be alright, that we'll get through this alive and well and that we'll only need to stay away for a few months—I'm not going to lie to her.

When she first asked me that question weeks ago, I hesitated to answer because I was unsure. She thinks there's something I'm not telling her. I can tell by the way she stares at me a little too long after telling her the truth. I can't blame her though, it's got to be eating her up inside not knowing what's going on back at her village or if her herd is okay.

A part of me wonders if we made the right decision, leaving when we did. If we'd stayed a bit longer—hidden while we waited to see how things panned out—maybe we wouldn't have had to run. The Panem cruiser we saw in the sky, did it _actually_ land? Did the crew survive the landing? Were they even _alive_ when it landed? Thinking about all the unanswered questions makes my head hurt. But voicing my thoughts won't help either of us, not now.

I toss another stick onto the fire, then settle back down next to Katniss. And like every time before, I answer her question truthfully. "I don't know if more will come."

But this time, there no uncertainty in her eyes when she stares back at me. Instead, she cups my cheek and offers me a tired smile. "It is time for sleep."

I can't argue with that. Katniss makes quick work of taming the fire, the glow of the embers giving off enough light for me to roll out the sleeping bag and pack-up the rest of our supplies. I'd learned early on from Katniss that it was best to have our gear ready to go in case we had to make a speedy retreat during the night. Although we've been lucky so far, there's no sense in letting our guard down, especially now that we're out of the snow desert.

After she settles in next to me, the side of her face nestled to my chest, I stroke my fingers through her hair, gently tracing the pointed tips of her ears and over where her antlers once were. The spots are a little rough, like a hardened callus. She says they'll eventually grow back, but I never thought to ask when.

With her body pressed tight to mine, I'm reminded of how much weight she's lost. Now that we're finally out of the snow, the hunting should improve and with it, our diet. My wandering fingers travel lower, tracing along her neck and down her spine before finding a tense spot between her shoulders. I take a few moments to rub the muscles, her quiet sigh of appreciation making me smile. Then my hand skims across her waist before finally settling over her stomach. She shudders, so I pull her in tighter.

This is the warmest night we've had in weeks, so she can't be cold. I hope she's not coming down with something, that's the last thing we need. I test her forehead with my palm. It's a bit clammy and during dinner, I noticed her cheeks were flushed, but it's nothing to get all concerned about. Just to be sure, I give her arm a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay?"

The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn't bother to open her eyes when she answers, "I will be. Now sleep."

The kiss she presses to my lips is brief but by no means tender. In fact, it causes something deep inside me to stir and my pulse to jump. If it weren't for the exhaustion in her voice, I'd be tempted to claim her lips again and ride out the urge that's now coursing through my veins.

With survival at the forefront of both our minds, intimacy hasn't exactly been a priority. Besides the quick kisses I manage to steal throughout the day and lingering touches at night, we haven't been together in over two weeks. Not that I'm complaining really, I probably couldn't have gotten it up anyway for fear of it turning into an icicle…which is a complete and utter lie. Every morning I've woken up stiff, and I'm not talking about my back thanks to the unforgiving ground. It doesn't help that Katniss has a habit of tangling her legs with mine like tree roots throughout the night, the warm juncture of her thighs pressed right up against my… _fuck_.

Just thinking about it sends blood rushing straight from one head to the other, and I shift my hips in a feeble attempt to trap my semi between my thighs. Katniss has already drifted off, an incoherent mumble slipping beneath her breath as her face burrows deeper into her pillow, or rather, my arm.

"Tomorrow," I whisper, more of an assurance to myself rather than to Katniss. "We'll rest longer after tomorrow, I promise."

Before I can take my next breath, she's deep in sleep. And thankfully, it doesn't take much longer for me to follow.

* * *

Bleary-eyed, I awake to the rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. When I reach out next to me, my hand meets nothing but air and I jolt up with a start. "Katniss?" No answer. I scramble to my feet and circle our campsite. The fire is nothing more than a grey heap of ash but what gets my heart racing is that Katniss's bow is still where she left it next to the sleeping bag.

"Katniss?" I hiss into the bushes, hoping she's within hearing distance.

Something rustles deeper into the leaves and my fingers curl into fists, hoping it's just another one of those ugly creatures we roasted last night. Inching forward, I strain my ears as silence falls over the campsite again.

"Here," comes a quiet voice to my left.

Sweet relief rushes through me as I barrel my way through the tangle of thorny bushes. Only a few steps in I find Katniss with her back to me, hand propped up against a tree trunk and bent at the waist, shoulders hunched.

"Are you okay?" I ask, approaching her slowly. I've seen enough people space sick to know when someone's been puking their guts out.

Her hand shoots up and I halt. "Stay there. You do not need to see this."

Really? She's seen me at my absolute worst, both physically and emotionally, and she's worried about what? A little throw-up? I take another step closer and she finally turns, her face paler than normal. Was it something she ate? Maybe that raw orange root thing from yesterday? Regardless, it looks like she's over the worst of it if she's emptied her stomach.

"Come on, let's get you some water. It'll make you feel better." Thankfully she nods and takes my hand as I lead her back to the campsite. "Was it the food from last night?"

With a tight smile, she shakes her head and reaches straight for the canteen. The first few sips she uses to gargle and swish out her mouth, but then she drains the rest with gasping gulps.

I try not to hover too much, but I keep an eye on her as we pack up. She won't eat anything but at least she drinks some more water boiled with crushed herbs from one of her pouches. I wish I had something from my first aid kit to offer her, but after a few minutes she's already looking better, the color returning to her cheeks and her movements less sluggish.

Our goal for today is once again visible in the daylight, the scattering of hills like goosebumps across the horizon. If we keep a steady pace, we should be there by mid-day. I don't want to push Katniss too hard, not after this morning, but the trees further off in the distance promise more coverage than our current location. From there we'll take a day or two to recoup, then figure out what our plan is.

Katniss takes the lead and I shoulder both our packs, allowing her to set our pace. As we make our way across the barren plain, the sun makes its way across the sky. Without a canopy of trees or the constant cloud cover that comes with snow, the sun is intense. Out in the open, there's nowhere to hide, but for some reason, I get the sense we're alone. We'd be able to spot any predator—creature or otherwise—a mile away.

As we get closer and closer to our destination, an eerie feeling prickles the base of my neck. There's something about the mounds. Although they're covered in dirt and patchy grass, they look out of place and…unnatural. It's the only way to describe them really. But it's their consistent shape that irks me, each of them about the same height and length but haphazardly spaced.

Turning to Katniss, she looks just as uneasy as me with one hand hovering over the blade handle at her hip. "Is this some sort of burial ground?" I ask.

"I have not seen this before. Our dead return to the Great Spirit through fire."

To get a better look, I take a hesitant step closer to one of the mounds. "A different herd perhaps?"

"I do not know."

But then something catches my eye, a glint of light against metal. That eerie feeling from before has settled deep in my gut, clenching my insides and threatening to empty my stomach.

"What…what was that?" Katniss asks, which means she saw it too. But she may have well whispered the words thanks to the blood roaring in my ears.

Clearing my throat, our packs slip off my shoulders and thump to the ground. "It looks like a…" My words trail off, evaporating to dust in my throat at the absurdity of it. But I have to be sure. It doesn't take much effort to rip a section of clumpy grass off the top, revealing a familiar smooth surface underneath. "But that's impossible."

"Peeta?" Katniss shuffles closer, the warmth of her touch at my elbow. "What is it?"

"They're life PODs."

* * *

Although not one of my favorite teachers growing up, I've come to realize the words of so-called wisdom from Professor Heavensbee have had a strange way of sticking with me. _"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."_ Well, the impossible has happened and the truth? It's somewhere inside one of these life PODs.

It's also times like these I'm grateful for actually paying attention during the mandatory quarterly safety drills but by the time we finally get one open, its late afternoon. Thanks to the buildup of dirt and grime over who knows how many years, the hatch on almost every POD we try is glued shut or the access panel non-responsive. I'm unsure if its luck or a coincidence that all thirteen PODs are empty.

From the outside, they look similar enough to the ones on Panem-12. The overall shape is the same, just a few slight modifications here and there. I had to explain to Katniss that these are not the like POD I arrived in, but rather a smaller version used for emergency situations only. The discussion as to what constituted as an emergency when out in space left her hesitant and uncertain of my determination to discover the truth. Thankfully, the hatch panels look familiar, but just in case, there are a few good sized rocks lying about if I need a Plan B.

To my relief, the panel on the last POD comes to life the moment I hover my palm over the screen, the blinking light in the corner signifying a vacant status, which we already confirmed. But the light is a blinking yellow, which means something's wrong. Could be a number of things: low oxygen levels in the canisters, a cracked seal, or something with one of the twenty-four life support systems essential for survival. Not that it matters, I'm not looking to sustain life, I just need some answers.

With the fingers of my one hand crossed, I have Katniss watch as I type in the universal access code and can't help but grin when the thing starts to move. The hiss from the capsule depressurizing causes Katniss to stumble back, but I catch her arm and pull her to my side for reassurance.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just a heap of metal that can't hurt you."

"What does that mean?" she asks, pointing at the yellow light.

"Just that it's empty, which we already knew."

Frowning, she wriggles out of my grip and takes another step back. "Where did they go?" The way she looks around as if expecting a group of survivors to magically appear out of thin air makes me chuckle.

"No clue, but that's what I'm hoping to figure out." Grasping the edge for balance, I heft a leg up and over into the life POD but am stopped when Katniss grabs hold of my other leg.

"No! Do not go in there! What if it—?"

"It's fine, I know what I'm doing. If it shuts, I can open it from the inside, see?" To ease her fears, I grab hold of the inside handle and pull the hatch shut, all the while smiling at Katniss through the viewport as it latches into place. The layout inside looks the same, a few upgrades to the main screen and some extra buttons, but nothing I can't figure out. I wave at Katniss for good measure which earns me an eye-roll, but I'm no longer smiling when I try what should be the inner release handle. The thing doesn't move, not even an inch when I starting reaming on it with my fist.

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ This is not happening right now.

Aware that something's not right, Katniss starts pounding on the viewport, her mouth moving frantically with silent words thanks to the thick glass. My thoughts are racing, trying desperately to recall if there's a secondary release latch, but my mind is coming up blank. The hammering in my chest seems to increase with each passing second and is it me, or does the air suddenly seem thinner? Even from in here that damn blinking yellow light mocks me, _you idiot…you idiot…you idiot._

After two of the longest minutes of my life, something suddenly shakes and the sound of gears groaning against their will has me holding in my next breath. The hatch finally starts to rise and the sight of Katniss's tanned fingers reaching through the widening gap has me gasping with relief.

I'm scrambling out of the damn thing the second I know my body will fit through. In that same second, Katniss slams into me, fastening her arms around me with a death grip. "I'm okay," I manage between breaths. "Let's just keep that thing open for now, what do you say?"

My untimely attempt at humor earns me a thump on the back, but at least she's not scared anymore. For now, I'll take her annoyance over the fear.

After catching my breath a few minutes later, I eventually convince Katniss (and myself) to try again. True to my word, I don't touch the hatch as I tinker around on the panel inside the POD. It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for: the flight history logs, which I'm hoping will give us some answers as to what happened here. But there's only one file. No flight data record, no voice recording, no duplicate files. Just a three minute and thirty-seven-second vid dated… _wait_ , that can't be right.

"What did you find?" I glance over at Katniss who's still trying to make sense of all the lights and buttons inside the life POD.

"It's more what I _didn't_ find that concerns me."

"Then are you finished? This place…it does not feel right."

Frowning, I drag my attention away from the screen to find Katniss hugging her body tight. I've come to learn that when Katniss has a feeling, whether it be natural instinct or something else, I shouldn't ignore it. But maybe she's more on edge than usual thanks to my incident with the hatch. "How so?"

She lifts her bow and motions to the empty sky. "There is no life. No birds. No trees." Bending over, she grabs a handful of dirt and it crumbles between her fingers. "The ground does not lie. There is nothing left here, only ghosts."

Well, she's right about that. Whoever landed in these are long gone. That is, if they were even occupied, to begin with. There's only one way to find out. Pulling up the vid file, I take a deep breath and press play. The screen instantly goes black, but there's something muffled coming over the audio, so I turn up the volume.

As Katniss leans in to get a better look, a light flickers on the screen and a second later we're staring at the hard-set face of a dark-skinned man. He looks to be mid-forties, with close-cropped hair that's graying on the sides and blue eyes.

"Can he see us?" Katniss whispers.

The death grip she's got on my shoulder will probably bruise, but I don't look away from the screen when I answer. "No, he's not here now." I pause the vid. "See? It's like the photos on my info pad, except this captures a moment in the past that you can watch again." Curious, I quickly check to see how many times the vid has been viewed. Huh. Only once.

Looking back over at Katniss, I give her a reassuring nod. "It'll be okay. Let's just see what's on here and then we can leave. I promise." At her curt nod, I press play once again.

" _This is Lieutenant Boggs, second-in-command of Panem-13, home base Panem-8. If you are receiving this transmission, odds are it's already too late for me. I was one of the fifty-six survivors of Panem-13, en route from Earth, located in the Milky Way galaxy within the Virgo Supercluster._

" _The destruction of our ship was our own doing. Our last resort. We were taken off guard by the virus, a modified strain of Hepatitis, which went undetected by the microbe scanners in the water purification tanks. Once in the system, it was only a matter of days before we could no longer contain the outbreak. It didn't take long though to pinpoint the source: a contaminated shipment of water filtration beds sent directly from the Capital._

" _The years of building tension between the Commander and President Snow had reached a pinnacle, but we'll never know exactly what caused them to strike first. My guess? The day of the Capitol's failsafe update when the Commander refused to turn over the new codes. Without them, President Snow found himself at the mercy of the Commander. Not that it mattered, what good was holding the trigger if you were dead?_

" _With no existing cure, our options were limited. If left to run its course, we'd be a ghost ship in less than a month. If we reached out to the other ships for help, ours would be gone in an instant. No, there was only one way to spare those yet to be infected. Thanks to the cloaking technology we'd been working on in secret, four hundred and fifty-one of our life PODs were able to jettison undetected. But after the Commander gave the order to blow Panem-13, only fifty-six life PODs escaped the debris. Fifty-six. Out of four hundred and fifty-one._

" _What happened next is only speculation. Unsure of how long we'd have to drift before reaching safety, the Commander ordered the remaining crew into hypersleep. We set a course for the nearest habitable planet and then after that, everything went dark._

" _When I finally woke up, my best guess was that I'd been asleep for over eighteen years. There was a corruption of the systems internal date sequence, so who knows how long we were really out. Of the fifty-six, only thirteen survived entry. At the time, I was deemed one of the lucky ones. Yeah right. Like some cosmic joke, the thirteen sole survivors of Panem-13 survived one hell, only to walk straight into another."_

He pauses, eyes raised upward as he releases a heavy sigh.

In the background of the screen, I spot a picture of Lieutenant Boggs with a young boy perched on his hip. There's something about the photo, or rather of the boy. I don't dwell on it though because his next words snap me back to attention.

" _She killed them. All of them. Would have killed the children too if I hadn't made her see their purpose."_

His second pause goes on longer than the first, but then he's blinking away the glazed look from his eyes.

" _But that wasn't going to happen on my watch. You hear me, Jackson? Don't trust them."_

This time his eyes shut and he shakes his head. By the looks of it, his breathing seems off. A little heavy, like he's struggling to catch his breath.

" _I swear…on every blasted star out there…that you'll live a long…and happy life…because you deserve it."_

When Boggs closes his eyes again and the light surrounding him dims, it's obvious something is wrong. I glance over at Katniss who looks distressed.

"What is happening to him?" she whispers, unable to look away from the screen.

Wherever he was recording his transmission, he was losing oxygen. The longer I study the screen, the more apparent it becomes to where he is. He's in a life POD. Or rather, trapped in one. This one? But why? The irony of the situation makes it that much worse, but then his haunting words filter back through my mind: _she killed them all_. She. The Commander of Panen-13. Alma Coin.

I still can't fathom why Commander Coin would kill her only remaining crew, especially her second-in-command. What did she hope to accomplish? And who the hell is Jackson? Was this transmission meant for him?

Boggs is humming now, an oddly familiar tune that turns into a chorus of mumbled words that don't make any sense. I switch off the screen because I know what happens next. With the surplus of carbon dioxide building up in the life POD, it won't be long before he goes unconscious. It'll do neither of us any good watching an already dead man die again.

Katniss slips her hand into mine, grounding me to the here and now as my mind tries to make sense of the past. She squeezes my fingers and I finally turn, my attention focusing briefly on her. Her face is pale like she's seen her own ghosts in the vid. "I do not understand. I thought you said all your people on that ship were killed. What does this mean?"

 _What does this mean?_ That's a damn good question.

By the time we make it to the trees, I have no memory of the trek or how much time passed. My mind is still whirling away, trying to make sense of our discovery and how in the _hell_ something like this was even possible.

Too tired to stand, I lay down and watch with unfocused eyes as Katniss forages the space around us, pulling blades of sharp grass that grows in high tufts and weaving them together into a mat. I assume it's to sleep on, considering the moisture from the sodden ground has already started to seep through my shirt and to my back. The coolness is welcomed against my flushed skin and I shut my eyes, suddenly exhausted.

One question plays over and over again in my head: _What does this mean?_

By the time I come to, the blue sky overhead has changed to a mix of pink and orange. I roll onto my side and rub the sleep from my eyes, but when the world comes back into focus, I'm startled by the transformation that surrounds me.

There's a small fire already going but behind it, a small hut made from grass mats sits between two trees. It's open on one side but with three walls and a roof. Another mat makes up the floor which is covered almost completely by the sleeping bag, and our packs are stowed neatly away off to one side.

Well, it looks like someone's been busy. But it's the lack of that certain someone that has me scrambling to my feet. "Katniss?" I call out, but not too loud.

I'm met with silence as I quickly search the vicinity of the hut. Seeing as how it's almost dinner time, she's probably out hunting or foraging. I push down the worry that's gripping my heart and decide to make myself useful. I start with collecting more sticks for the fire then move on to the hut where I rummage through our supplies in search of the canteen.

The damn thing almost goes tumbling to the floor when a shadow appears on the back wall and I spin around so fast that I too almost land on my ass.

"You're awake," she says, eyeing me up and down. "Are you hungry?"

Frowning, I follow her back out to the fire and take a quick swig of water to swish the sleep out of my mouth. "How long was I out for?"

"A few hours." When she sets down her bow, I notice the two birds hanging off her belt. They look like those grousling things and I'm hoping they taste just as good. My stomach still hasn't caught up to the fact that food is once again abundant, but the current grumblings are a reminder that I skipped lunch thanks to our afternoon discovery.

Gesturing to our dinner, I settle myself down by the fire. "I take it the hunting is much better here?"

"Yes." Katniss busies herself with her haul and just like every other night, I watch her as she goes through the motions of preparing our meal.

However, tonight she's quiet. More so than usual. But there's no doubt the events from today have something to do with it. I know I can't stop replaying the image and words of Lieutenant Boggs over and over again in my head. And now knowing the truth as to what happened to Panem-13 has me thinking more and more about my people. That spark they were looking for to start a rebellion? Forget it, that vid is already a raging fire. If the information was made public, President Snow's days would be limited and the other ships wouldn't think twice about cutting off supplies to the Capitol. Without the rest of us, they'd never survive.

If only there was a way I could get a message back up to my ship. Maybe see if I could get a signal out or better yet, re-establish communications using the life POD. Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? I'm no info tech expert, that's for sure, but I know enough to be able to send out that vid so that anyone with a screen will see it and then—

"Peeta." Katniss's voice stops me short of my next thought. "There is something you must know."

My back stiffens at her tone and the canteen freezes just inches away before hitting my lips again. You'd think with all the surprises we've faced that nothing would faze me, but still, it's a struggle to hide the panic in my voice. "What is it?"

Setting down the arrowhead that she's been sharpening, she blows out a long breath. When her eyes meet mine, I swear the forest around us suddenly goes silent. "There is life inside me."

I stare at her for a second, all my previous thoughts of rebellion and communicating with my people lost in an instant. It takes another few seconds before her words finally penetrate my thick skull. A lump has somehow formed in my throat and I desperately try to swallow it down. "A…a life?" I can't help my gaze from dropping to the hand placed protectively over her midsection.

A baby? I'm a complete idiot. The signs have been plain as day, but for some reason, my mind never went there. Maybe it's because the need to survive has been constantly weighing at the forefront of my mind. Or maybe it's because I never thought reproduction was a real possibility for us. Sure we're physically compatible…really compatible, but…to the point of becoming a _father_?

Before landing on Dist-12, I always knew I'd want a family someday. A couple kids to carry on the Mellark blood and help make life aboard the ship worthwhile. But here? _Now_? Shit, we don't even have a safe place to call home! I don't know the first thing about dealing with a pregnancy, let alone an interspecies one. I cringe at how much I've been pushing her these past few days and my short temper. I've only been making things worse and I hate myself for it.

"You are not pleased."

"What?" I meet her wary gaze and shake my head. "It's not that, I'm just…surprised." I get to my feet and close the short distance between us, the sudden need to touch her overwhelming. Taking her hands in mine, I give her a reassuring smile. "I thought it was exhaustion and lack of decent food that was making you sick. So it was the baby?"

"Is that what humans call their young?"

"At this stage, yes, but I guess it's a fawn, right?"

"I do not know, is it a fawn or a bae-bee?"

"Does it really matter?" Placing a hand on her belly, I give it a little rub. "Hey there, little one."

Katniss smiles back, her fingers grazing my cheek. "I like that better." She places her hand over mine as we both stare at the barely-there bump. "My little one and my mate. What more do I need?"

God, this woman. Pressing my forehead against her skin, I hold on tight to her hips. Here I am stressing over what _more_ we'll need, what _more_ I can do, how much _more_ either of us can take before everything comes crashing down around us. And all she needs is us. Nothing more. It's something I'll try my hardest to provide for her, but if there's one thing I've learned since the day of the reaping, it's that the future is unpredictable.

"Katniss." I pull back and stare up at her beautiful face. "I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If anything happens to me, promise me that you will return to the village." Her eyes narrow and I can already sense the lashing she's going to give me for allowing my thoughts to go down this path. "You know the way and with the HOLO, you can make it back on your own."

"Why are you saying this? Are you abandoning us?"

Again with _us_. The word elates and yet terrifies me. "I'd never leave you or our little one. At least not willingly."

When my meaning dawns on her, she scowls. "You are not going to die here."

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but who knows what the future holds. I don't want you to forget how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there's no life for me here. You're my whole world." My eyes drift down to her abdomen. "Both of you."

"Stop this, what you are saying is foolish. You are _not_ going to _die_."

I shake my head. "It's different for you. I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard, but you won't have to raise our child alone. He or she deserves a family and—"

"Enough!" Katniss pushes me away and mutters a few choice words she's picked up from me before stomping off into the hut.

Instincts tell me to give her some space and a moment to calm down, but this is too important. I need her to see reason. Releasing a heavy sigh, I follow her. She stands as still as a statue with her back to me, but by the rise and fall of her shoulders, I know she's struggling to keep her temper.

"Katniss," I say, stepping closer to run my hands down her arms. When she doesn't move, I spin her around to face me. She won't look at my face, lips tight together in a firm line. I lift her chin so she has to look at me. Forcing her to make eye contact. "Promise me."

Her glassy eyes make my chest tighten, and so I wrap her in my arms and pull her in close. Her entire body is vibrating, muscles too rigid to release the tension.

"You're going to make a great mother, you know," I whisper against her temple, pulling her even closer.

Eventually, she sinks into me fully and her arms snake around my waist, hands fisting into my shirt. "And you a great father," she says against my chest. "I no longer wish to speak of this. All will be well. You will see."

As we ready for bed that evening, it seems we both have come to an understanding. Life is unpredictable and the different worlds we thought we once knew have proven otherwise. The only way we're getting through this in one piece is together. Starting tomorrow, our primary focus shifts to finding our baby a home. Wherever that may be.

Thanks to my mind and body being pushed to the limit today, it doesn't take long for either of us to fall asleep. And dream of a world where our child is safe.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Life has a way of derailing your best intentions at the most inopportune times, but I found my way back and fingers crossed this momentum I've found will follow me through to the end of this story. As you can see, this isn't the final chapter. It was getting too long so I decided to split things up. As of now, I'm planning on the next chapter being the last one along with an epilogue, so I hope you're looking forward to it!

Thank you to _**titaniasfics**_ for being an extra set of eyes on this chapter and a big thank you to those of you who didn't give up on me and stuck with me through my writer's block. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Here are some thoughts from writing this chapter:

\- I hope you noticed that this chapter is riddled with canon elements, which I had a lot of fun time weaving into the story and I hope you enjoyed the spin I put on some of them too! As you may remember from my fun fact from Chapter 5, it was a bit of a hint towards Katniss being pregnant. So yeah, Katniss won't be growing her antlers back until after pregnancy, she's got a little one to grow instead!

\- While researching escape pods and hibernation in space, I came across something interesting: NASA is currently working on an actual artificial hibernation technology for the Mars mission, crazy! It'd be similar to therapeutic hypothermia where the body's core temperature is reduced to 32 degrees Celcius which causes an unconscious-like state and slows down your metabolic rate. Instead of one long hibernation period though, people would go through cycles of hibernation and recovery. I tell ya, space and space travel still blows my mind!

Come find me on tumblr: _**pookieh**_


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